Southern Belle
by Ace of Hearts
Summary: *AU set in the antebellum South* Rogue has never been considered a beauty like her older sister Jean, nor a sweetheart like her younger sister Kitty...so what is she supposed to do when the most notorious playboy in the South starts courting her?
1. Chapter One

**Spring of 1853, Mississippi**

It wasn't that Rogue lacked any beauty; on the contrary, the fifteen-year-old daughter of Charles Xavier, owner of one of the wealthiest plantations in the South, boasted rich auburn hair, compelling olive-green eyes, and skin as white as dainty snow. But her deep wine-colored tresses paled in comparison next to her sister Jean's glorious scarlet locks, her green eyes weren't quite as compelling when in the same room as Jean's expressive viridian-colored pools, and her milky complexion looked downright pale when judged against Jean's fair, jasmine-white skin. Because of this, Rogue had failed to be too surprised when at parties and dances, it was her gorgeous sixteen-year-old sister Jean who was always surrounded by eager suitors--foolish young gentlemen, she'd always thought, the way they hung on to her every word and tried every trick to get her to spare even one brief glance in their direction--while she sat inconspicuously tucked away at a corner, not quite with the married women and the elderly but nonetheless clearly away from the group of young, marriageable girls as well. 

Rogue sighed and irritably smoothed over a nonexistent wrinkle in her dramatic green silk dress as she watched the unmarried young girls giggling and flirting with their male escorts. The already petulant second daughter of Charles Xavier was in a worse mood than usual today, partly because her whalebone corset had been laced too tightly for the ball--not her fault she didn't have a ridiculously tiny sixteen-and-a-half-inch waist like her younger sister Kitty, she thought annoyedly--partly also because she realized that said fourteen-year-old younger sister was already attracting many more suitors than she could ever possibly hope for. Rogue sighed crossly as she eyed Kitty chatting pleasantly with Kurt Wagner, the grandson of a German immigrant who'd sailed to the Southern States with nothing more than the clothes on his back and had proceeded over time to build one of the richest plantations in the county. She could certainly understand why eligible young gentlemen were practically smothering Jean and fighting each other to get to the seats nearest her, but what exactly did they see in Kitty that she, Rogue, didn't have as well? _After all, _she thought moodily to herself, _it's not like Kitty's got the prettiest dress, or has the nicest hair, or for that matter anything other than her stupid little sixteen-and-a-half-inch waist._ _And she's so flighty, too..._Rogue suddenly blinked her eyes viciously, as though to snap herself out of her thoughts. What had made her turn so catty and jealous all of a sudden? She wasn't that type of person at all. Granted, she wasn't the sweetest or most charming young lady around--those titles belonged to Kitty and Jean, respectively--but she had never been a recklessly shameless gossip like Tabitha Smith, either. Rogue sighed again to herself, fighting hard to smother a yawn of boredom before working her mouth into a frown as she realized that she really had nothing to do with these mindlessly happy crowds. Glancing around to make sure none of those old busybodies were around to report her conduct back to her father--it was Mrs. Smith, Tabitha's mother, that she was especially worried of--Rogue stood up from her seat, smoothed down the skirts of her dress, and proceeded to leave. What was there for her here at this stupid meaningless ball, anyway, suitor-less and flat out without any attention from anyone, let alone a boy? She might as well sneak back to her father's plantation, where she could finally get rid of this damn corset and change into a dress that wasn't as silly and didn't have as many skirts or ribbons. Darting final quick glances at the group of married women sitting around fanning themselves, Rogue stealthily crept farther away from the festivities. 

Pietro Maximoff grinned, his sky-blue eyes lighting up with mischief as he finally arrived at the ball, already knowing that all the female heads would be turned in his direction as he made his grand entrance alongside his twin, Wanda. At age seventeen, Pietro was as dashingly handsome and charming as any eligible young bachelor could hope for, and the arrogant youth was only too aware of this fact. Already his mind was running over which conquests he would make today. Miss Tabitha certainly intrigued him...but she was a bit too close on the border between Southern belle and white trash for him to really be stuck on for too long; besides, her family's plantation was several acres smaller than his own. Maybe Miss Amara; she _was_ annoyingly emphatic about the courtesy and demure charms that all Southern ladies were supposed to have, but Pietro was sure he could knock her down a peg or two. Just then, Pietro caught sight of the usual swarm of eager young men crowded around a rather consternated-looking Miss Jean, and his upper lip began to turn up in a smug little smirk. There was his target--Charles Xavier's prided eldest daughter. Pietro had courted the glorious redhead on-and-off for the past year, mainly because all the other men in the five nearest counties seemed to be doing so, and he always did enjoy victory over others. Although Jean had been wary of him in the beginning, he knew that she was slowly warming up to his good looks and charms. Or at least he thought she was, as he began weaving his way through the crowd, pausing to sweep down in an exaggerated bow for Miss Jean's youngest sister, Miss Kitty, earning himself a timid blush and smile from the perky brunette and a scowl from her hopeful suitor Kurt Wagner. 

Before Pietro could actually reach Jean, however, his eyes happened to lift up and scan across the room, just in time to catch a feminine figure discreetly slipping away from the festivities. Pietro paused, frowning and starting to feel the beginnings of intrigue as he pondered who could possibly leave when the ball had barely begun. Judging from her extravagant silk dress, she was obviously a young and unmarried girl, because family matriarchs were hardly expected to dress in such a flashy way and still retain their dignity. So what, then, would a marriageable young lady be doing leaving like this, without having danced at all and clearly having failed to charm any potential suitors? His curiosity roused, Pietro wasted no time in forgetting all about the lovely Miss Jean and began cutting through the crowds after the mystery girl, not even bothering to pause and acknowledge Miss Tabitha's seductive smile as he passed the blonde bombshell by. 

Rogue tottered as fast as she could on her forest-green slippers, then forced herself to slow down lest she faint from lack of breath getting to her lungs through her corset. She had to stop herself from muttering unflattering words against the person responsible for lacing her in too tight--namely, the family's beloved housekeeper, Ororo Munroe, an attractive African-American woman who'd been hired rather than bought for her services at the plantation because she was as free as any Caucasian and too respected by Charles Xavier to be treated as anything less than a family equal.   
"Again, she's got to remember that Ah ain't got a waist as tiny as Kitty's," Rogue muttered grumpily to herself. Out of all her sisters, she was the one with the most prominent accent, and after being ashamed of that fact for the better part of her life, she was just recently learning to proudly show off that accent like a symbol of her individuality amidst all the other fair-haired, prettily-dressed, demurely charming Southern girls.   
"Ah don't have a suitor to impress, why should Ah bother trying to mold myself into some little perfect Southern damsel, anyway?" she muttered sourly to herself as she continued to rapidly cross the gardens of the Summers plantation where the ball was being held.   
"Oh, don't be so sure of that fact, Miss," a distinctly masculine voice spoke up from somewhere behind her, and Rogue was so startled that she nearly fell right on her face when she spun around to meet the speaker. Her eyes narrowed at the handsome youth leaning lazily against the trunk of a huge oak tree, his blue eyes laughing mischievously at her from under a mane of platinum-blonde hair so pale that it was almost a silver shade.   
"What do you want, Pietro?" she spat out, forgetting all the ladylike manners Miss Ororo had so painstakingly taught her over the years she'd worked with the family.   
"My, awful sassy today, aren't we?" His words echoed the arrogant smirk on his lips, as Pietro added with mock indignation, "Can't a gentleman talk to a lovely young lady any more without getting snapped at?"   
"Maybe, but judging by your irresponsible and narcissistic ways, Mr. Maximoff, Ah can hardly call you a gentleman, now can Ah?" Rogue sniped, ignoring the flutter in her heart that Pietro had called her lovely. Even if he had been mocking her, or working his charm, or whatever it was that he did that made so many girls latch on to him like he was their demigod, this was still the first time that any male had ever admired her beauty.   
"Well, aren't we the feisty one today, Miss...ah..." Pietro's smug grin seemed to fade a notch, as he struggled to remember her name, and the fact that he was so obviously ignorant of her seemed like a slap on the face, especially when he'd bothered to remember the names of all the other girls at the ball, even white trash like Tabitha.   
"It's Rogue," the petulant girl seethed through clenched teeth, tightening her hands into fists and resisting the urge to pummel him with them.   
"Oh, of course, Miss, er, Rogue. How could I forget?" Pietro was instantly back to his usual charms, recovering fast and beginning to prattle, "But Miss Rogue, that is a mighty strange name you've got there. Haven't you thought of something more normal? What about Marie?" Rogue scowled.   
"What do you think of the name John?" she shot back, exaggeratedly fluttering her eyelashes at him. "After all, Pietro isn't exactly all that normal a name itself, now is it?" And she rustled her skirts and hiked off, as fast as her slippers could carry her and with Pietro behind protesting indignantly, "Hey, my name just happens to be French...Or is it Italian? Or is it Greek? And say, Miss Rogue, what do you think of the name Rachel? Or Diana? Or Victoria? You know, if you had an easier-to-remember name, maybe you'd get more suitors! Say, what about Caroline? Or Natalie? Or..." 

* * *

"Ugh, Ah hate Pietro," Rogue declared huffily to herself the next morning, as she stomped around her bedroom, still not dressed and taking care not to rip her filmy white petticoat while Ororo helped her make the bed. The statuesque African-American woman discreetly shook her head and hid a smile, while Rogue continued to rant and rave about what a rascal Pietro Maximoff was. Judging by the girl's behavior, Ororo couldn't help but think that she was quite taken with the smug silver-haired youth, but with him being the first potential suitor--if one could even call Pietro that--to approach Rogue, she knew no better way to react to this than to immediately revert to more familiar but also more childish ways of name-calling and hair-tugging.   
"...He is just so arrogant! Why, just yesterday at the ball, Pietro had the nerve to call me..." Rogue continued to bristle, throwing herself back onto the bed and ruining Ororo's previous efforts at tidying that very same bed. Ororo gave up and walked over to the window, deciding that Rogue could just make her own bed later once she'd blown off some steam, and as the elegant woman glanced out the window, she caught sight of a young man making his way toward the house. Her ocean-blue eyes narrowed in recognition, as she began, "Miss Rogue...this Pietro Maximoff is the one with the platinum hair, isn't he?"   
"None other," came the wry response, somewhat muffled by feathery white pillows.   
"Then that is indeed Pietro calling on somebody in this house," Ororo finished thoughtfully. 

Rogue's response nearly broke the sonic barrier, as she shot up and off the bed and shrieked in a painfully high-pitched voice, "WHAT?!!!" As Ororo winced from the supersonic assault on her ears, Rogue, bed sheets and petticoat still tangled about her, tripped and tottered her way toward the window, muttering shrilly, "Pietro? Coming here? What does he want? Why would he come here? Oh, no, do Ah look terribly hideous? Where's mah new dress?"   
"Miss Rogue, you should calm down--" Ororo tried to interrupt rationally, but Rogue ignored her advice and continued fretting about, finally arriving at the window and nearly throwing the entire upper half of her body out in her eagerness to get a view. Seeing the all too familiar silver head confidently leap off his horse and begin to make his way up to the front door, Rogue began to fret, "What does he want that would take him all the way here, anyway--Whoa!"   
"Miss Rogue!" Ororo dived forward in an effort to save her, but her efforts to pull the girl back in were unsuccessful as Rogue leaned a bit too far, tripped over the bed sheets still tangled around her legs, and promptly fell out her window. 

Pietro absently ran a hand through his perfect silver hair, beginning to take his first step toward the front door when he heard a frantic feminine yelp of, "Whoa!" that broke through his wall of busy thoughts. Glancing up, Pietro could only see a flurry of magnolia-colored petticoats flying down at him as though from heaven, and instinctively, he stretched out his hands, promptly catching the dismayed and horribly embarrassed girl inside the silky petticoats. Pietro's mischievous blue eyes lit up when he recognized said girl, dancing with laughter as their owner proceeded to smirk and say, "Why, it's that fiery beauty who desired to leave the party yesterday so early. What a pleasant surprise. Miss...Rogue, is it?" Rogue scowled, her own olive-green eyes flaring angrily as she snapped, "Flattery's not getting you anywhere; Ah still remember what you said to me yesterday!" Pietro blinked puppy eyes at her, pretending to be hurt as he reminded her, "What did I say?" He then added smugly, "Besides, aren't you the one who called me--and I quote--a person of "irresponsible, narcissistic ways who can hardly be called a gentleman?" Rogue colored faintly at his words, clearing her throat and trying to regain her composure.   
"Well..." Her voice trailed off, and she retorted lamely, "you started it first." Pietro laughed at her weak comeback, and his mirth only served to annoy her further as she started to snipe hotly, "And, you are clearly showing your rude and arrogant ways by openly mocking me...!" 

"Miss Rogue?!" Ororo, who'd briefly peeked her head out the window to see whether Rogue was okay, had now managed to make it down the stairs and to the front door, opening the heavy oak with Kitty in tow. Kitty, ever the early riser, was already fully dressed and had been helping set the table for breakfast, and when she saw her sister with the charming Pietro Maximoff, her cornflower-blue eyes lit up in delight and she raised a hand to her lips to cover her soft giggles. Despite Kitty's best efforts, Rogue still saw the younger girl shaking with laughter behind her hand, and then she also noticed the way Ororo was staring in that strange way at her, and only after a few moments did Rogue finally realize that not only was she only wearing her petticoat and was still cradled in Pietro's arms like a bride being carried over the threshold, but she had also somehow wrapped her arms around his neck when she'd first recovered from her fall. Rogue blushed furiously as soon as she acknowledged this fact, her oleander-white cheeks burning bright scarlet as she quickly jumped down and disentangled herself as best she could from her male companion.   
"Uh...Miss Ororo...Ah can explain...It's not what you think..." she stammered awkwardly, not daring to meet her surrogate mother's disapproving blue eyes.   
"I think we'd better finish setting the breakfast table," Kitty jumped in, bailing out her grateful sister and adding, "I'm sure Papa's up by now, and besides, we have a new cook and Lord only knows how she'll handle her new responsibilities. It's for the best that one of us should go see if she needs any help, Miss Ororo." While Kitty had been speaking, Rogue was silently praying that Xavier wouldn't show up and catch his middle daughter standing around in only her petticoat around a young man who wasn't even her suitor. Ororo worked her features into a disapproving frown, but, swayed by Kitty's intervening words, she finally relaxed and murmured in a tight voice, "I'll go see about the cook and Mr. Xavier...Miss Rogue, you better see to it that you get dressed sometime soon." Rogue blushed again at her pointed suggestion, but for the moment was thankful and relieved when Ororo left them alone, Pietro soon following after bowing lavishly in Kitty's direction when she smiled and let him in. 

Rogue reentered her house, and Kitty soon shut the door after everyone had gotten in, still smiling at the incident that had occurred only a few minutes earlier.   
"Ah wonder what he's doing here so early in the morning," Rogue harrumphed, trying to regain her dignity while quietly making her way up the stairs to get dressed, as Ororo had suggested. Kitty looked genuinely surprised at her sister's words, as she demanded in an incredulous voice, "You mean...you don't know?" Rogue shook her head without bothering to turn around, muttering, "No, Ah don't."   
"I thought the whole county would know by now--I mean, what with gossip traveling around as fast as it does and everything," Kitty remarked, more to herself than to anyone else. Rogue was beginning to feel irritable at the way her younger sister was dodging her question, as she demanded, "What do you mean? What gossip?" Kitty looked up, a warm smile washing over her features as she reported happily, "You haven't heard? Why, Pietro Maximoff's come over to ask Papa for Jean's hand in marriage!" 


	2. Chapter Two

Xavier nodded his thanks as one of the servant girls brought over a tray with two cups of coffee for the family patriarch and his guest, before demurely scurrying away as he leaned over and picked up one of the cups.   
"I fully understand that Jean is of marriageable age," Xavier began, choosing his words carefully as Pietro mimicked his action and took a sip of coffee as well. "However, even so I can't help but be a little surprised that you wish to marry my daughter, and so suddenly as well." _Considering how erratic your courting and position as a suitor has been,_ his unfinished sentence hung heavily in the air, while Pietro smoothly shifted his features into an expression of utmost sincerity.   
"I can understand your uncertainty toward my position as a suitor," he began honestly, at which Xavier cut in hastily, not wishing to offend the boy's father, "It's not that I don't trust you, Pietro. It's just that...well...I have to admit I can't remember how often you have called on my daughter." _Hah, about once every other month; God forbid I break Scott Summers's record of every other day,_ Pietro thought smugly to himself, being careful to keep these arrogant feelings from showing on his face.   
"I understand, especially considering how several of Miss Jean's other suitors have been courting her for almost three years now, as opposed to only one year by myself." Pietro then decided to play his trump card. "Of course, I've talked this matter over with my father, and he's already given his blessings..." He let his voice trail off meaningfully there, watching Xavier's reaction with barely concealed interest. It was no secret that Pietro's father and Jean's father had been business partners in their youth, before having a fall-out that had left bitter feelings toward the latter from the former. Xavier had spent the better part of his life afterwards trying to rebuild at least a courteous relationship with his former friend, and both he and Pietro knew that forbidding the marriage was probably one of the most foolish things Xavier could do at that point.   
"Ultimately, it will have to be my daughter's decision," Xavier finally said, keeping his voice carefully neutral as he spoke. "But either way, you have my blessings." Pietro grinned, standing up and bowing with a flourish.   
"Thank you very much, sir," he said modestly. "This is all I am asking for right now, and--" 

Whatever other extravagant thanks Pietro had been planning were cut off short, when the doors to the room creaked before suddenly falling wide open, dumping a girl dressed still in only her petticoat rather unceremoniously onto the floor. Pietro grinned when he recognized her, fighting down the impulse to laugh at her high-pitched little squeal as she fell, before opting to simply greet her with, "Ah, and a very good morning to you too, Miss Rogue. We really ought to stop meeting each other like this, you falling into my presence like some angel sent by God." Xavier couldn't help but dart a brief yet suspicious glance at his potential future son-in-law when he heard the lavish praise for his daughter who wasn't set to marry said son-in-law, but Rogue hastily cut him off before he could question Pietro's intentions toward her.   
"Ah believe Ah already told you that flattery won't be getting you anywhere," she muttered, keeping her eyes steadfastly on the floor so that her dark red hair covered most of her face and her blush. Pietro gave her his most innocent look.   
"Well maybe it won't, but I was under the impression that you liked your acquaintances to be truthful," he whistled in that maddening tone of his. Rogue couldn't help but turn pink at his words, and she began to stammer, "But you're not even an acquaintance of mine..." 

Thankfully, Kitty showed up to bail Rogue out again for the second time that morning, albeit inadvertently this time, as she rushed over in a whirlwind of sky-blue water silk and jasmine-scented perfume and exclaimed breathlessly, "There you are, Rogue; Miss Ororo and I have been looking all over for you; what were you thinking sneaking off to eavesdrop on--Oh, Papa, Pietro...um, good morning." She abruptly cut herself off when she realized that the two people Rogue had been planning to eavesdrop on were right there in the room, but her unexpected entrance had already served the purpose of getting some of the attention off the humiliated Rogue, as the two girls' father arched his eyebrows at the eavesdropping part but chose to remark mildly, "Might I suggest, Rogue, to go upstairs so that Miss Ororo can help you get dressed? After all, it isn't appropriate for a young lady like yourself to appear in only her petticoats in the presence of a man." Rogue's face was positively crimson by then, and the delicate Kitty herself couldn't help turning pink, before the former quickly gathered what little dignity she had left and replied with her head held high, "I understand, Papa. I'll see you after breakfast." Kitty, after blushing and darting her father a guilty look, scurried after her sister, and the two quickly made their way up the stairs. 

"I still can't believe you snuck off like that when I went to the kitchen to see if the cook needed any help," Kitty complained, daintily lifting up the skirts of her silky blue dress as she walked up the stairway. Rogue rolled her eyes, grumbling something incomprehensible under her breath before deciding that it would be best she answer lest Kitty suspect something was going on between her and Pietro--which couldn't be any farther from the truth, she told herself forcefully.   
"Ah just wanted to see what kinds of dirty tricks Pietro would use to sweet-talk Papa into letting Jean marry him," she defended herself, grateful that Kitty couldn't see the guilty look written in her eyes.   
"Rogue, just because Pietro's so charming and handsome doesn't mean you should assume the worst and brand him a heartbreaker," the youngest sister chided, then brightened up and remarked, "Personally, I think he's delightful." Rogue, her own embarrassment forgotten, turned around to give her sister a suspicious glare.   
"You sound quite taken with him yourself," she accused none too gently, and Kitty's eyes immediately widened into cornflower-blue saucers at her sister's words, as she gasped and stammered, "N-no! Of course I'm not, why would you think that? I'm just saying that Pietro's a very charming gentleman, and I for one wouldn't be terribly upset to have him as a brother-in-law." 

Rogue huffed something incomprehensible under her breath as she finally reached the second floor and headed to her bedroom, where Ororo was already waiting for her with a green crinoline dress in hand and a disapproving frown on her lips. Kitty, seeing the look on the housekeeper's face, quietly ducked out and laughed airily, "I, er, will go see that one of the servants sends up a breakfast tray, kay, bye now!" leaving Rogue to stand Ororo's chastising alone. Rogue internally cringed, already knowing that she was going to receive hell for appearing not once but twice in front of a man in only her petticoats, in addition to eavesdropping on her father's conversation, and briefly wondered which of the maids had ratted her out. Squaring her shoulders as though entering a war zone, the normally petulant fifteen-year-old bravely walked up to Ororo as the latter held out the mountain of green skirts and ribbons and began helping her get dressed.   
"You know I don't approve of your actions just now," she began to reprove sternly as she laced the stays on Rogue's corset. "Such behavior is most certainly not suitable for a wealthy gentleman's daughter with a dignified reputation such as yourself; how will you ever expect any suitors to respect you as a lady if you just prance around them in your underskirts?" Rogue nearly gasped with indignation, beginning to breathe with difficulty now that the corset was being tightly laced.   
"Ah wasn't prancing around Pietro in mah underskirts on purpose," she defended herself. "Besides, he ain't--isn't--mah suitor, he's marrying mah sister so Ah don't see any reason to try and impress him with all those charms and formalities Ah find so irritating." Ororo sighed, a look of sympathetic understanding beginning to override the disapproval etched in her features.   
"I understand some of these practices may be taxing on you," she murmured quietly, "but try to realize that like it or not, you're a Southern lady, and as such there are certain expectations placed upon you. Just try to handle it with grace like your sisters." Rogue scowled at the mention of her sisters, especially the always perfectly dressed, perfectly made-up, perfectly well-mannered Miss Jean, before replying sulkily, "Are you done yet, Ah feel like I'm suffocating under all these endless yards of crinoline." Ororo bent her head to hide a smile, knowing that the old Rogue was more or less back, as she finished with some last minute adjustments and answered, "I'm done." 

Just then, true to her word, Kitty did indeed send up a young maid carrying a breakfast tray for her older sister, but Rogue breezed past the girl and stepped out of her room, beginning to head down the stairs while tying her bonnet over her hair at the same time. Ororo rushed after her, wanting to know, "Hold on, Miss Rogue, where are you going?"   
"I have to talk to Papa," Rogue lied with a straight face, flying down the stairs as fast as her dainty slippers would carry her and making it to the door just in time to see Pietro get up on his horse and begin to leave.   
"Pietro!" she called after him, nearly breathless from the running and her tightly laced corset crushing into her ribcage. The silver-haired youth turned around upon hearing his name, that ever present cocky smile already on his lips as he tipped his hat smartly at her and remarked in a snide tone of voice, "Well, if it isn't my feisty little eavesdropper...I hate to embarrass you so, Miss Rogue, but I must point out that your bonnet's been tied on backwards!" Rogue's hands instinctively shot up to her bonnet and yanked it off, allowing some loose strands of dark auburn hair to stream around her face as she hurriedly reworked the ribbons while the amused Pietro watched on.   
"Ah didn't come out here just to get jeered at by you," Rogue began huffily, retying her bonnet the right way this time. Pietro smirked in that maddening way, drawling lazily, "Really, could have fooled me...although, it _is_ nice to see that you finally bothered to put a dress on over all those petticoats." Rogue bit down on her lower lip, just in time to prevent a stream of loud and highly unladylike curses from flying out, forcing herself to calm down enough to seethe in a deceptively calm voice, "Ah just want to know one thing, Pietro--why are you so interested in marrying mah sister all of a sudden?" In response, Pietro flashed her one of his famous smiles, replying smoothly, "Well, there _was_ a rumor going around that Miss Jean might accept Scott Summers's proposal, and I couldn't let him get a victory over me, now could I?" Rogue's eyes narrowed in fury when she heard him speak so casually of a lifelong commitment to Jean; granted she might be envious of Jean's popularity, but she was still her sister and Rogue wasn't about let anyone speak in that way about her family.   
"Why you dirty, rotten, disgusting cad...!" she began to sputter in outrage. She wasn't sure of the exact meaning of the word "cad," but she'd heard Wanda Maximoff call plenty of suitor hopefuls that, so she was at least certain that it was an insult. Pietro's smirk failed to slip off his face at her words, and he simply added casually, "Besides, what better excuse to catch a glimpse of Miss Jean's spitfire sister, right?" Rogue was momentarily shocked into silence at the possibility that his whole marriage scheme was just a way to get closer to her, before she shook off that far-fetched idea and pointed out the logical solution.   
"You could have just called on me, you know," she reminded him frostily, and was again answered with that maddening smirk.   
"Maybe--but just think of how my reputation would suffer if word got around that I'm courting the little shrew of the Xavier plantation," he whistled innocently, and had to duck wildly to avoid the bonnet that Rogue had ripped off her own head to hurl in his direction.   
"You scoundrel! How dare you call me that?!" she bristled, her anger turning to surprise when Pietro calmly leapt off his horse to pick up her bonnet and personally deliver it to her. Clasping his hands around her smaller ones to make her clutch her silky hat, he advised in that condescending tone used with very young children, "There, there, Miss Rogue, you'd better put this back on rather than try to hit me with it--wouldn't want the sun to turn that lovely fair skin of yours a most unladylike shade of tan, now would we?" And with a tip of his hat he was gone, jumping back onto his horse and riding off. Rogue could hear faint laughter as he rode away from the plantation, and after staring after his retreating figure for a few more seconds, she dutifully retied the ribbons of her bonnet like he'd suggested and reentered the house. 

* * *

Rogue stared out sullenly from the window of the carriage as it steadily took a group of girls to town, ignoring the chatter and laughter around her as the others gathered to giggle and gossip.   
"Well, he's very sweet," Amara Acquilla was saying about one of her suitors, "but I hardly think he's enough of a gentleman." At this, Rahne Sinclair rolled her eyes and teased good-naturedly, "Amara, nobody will ever be enough of a gentleman for you!" Amara turned around defensively, nearly crashing her deep magenta parasol against Rahne's own apple-green one in her haste as she sputtered, "Hey, it's not my fault I happen to appreciate some chivalry and manners in my beaux--!"   
"Come on, you two, let's not argue," Jean spoke up calmly, playing the role of peacemaker and effectively changing the conversation topic by mentioning casually, "By the way, Papa received a letter today informing him of a visit by the son of one of his old acquaintances." At this, all ears in the carriage perked up, and most of the girls, with the exception of Rogue and Wanda Maximoff, turned their attention to Jean and inquired in a chorus of voices, "Really? Who is it?"   
"How come I didn't hear about this until now?" Kitty wondered to herself, as Jean began to explain.   
"He's from Louisiana, and his father owns a spice plantation there," she revealed. "I heard he's Cajun." Kitty's eyes lit up.   
"Ooh, a French gentleman," she exclaimed in delight, then wondered with a rather silly smile in her blue eyes, "I wonder if his ancestors were Parisian." Jean shook her head, reminding her youngest sister with a laugh, "Kitty, just because he's of French descent doesn't necessarily mean he's a debonair romantic," but her good sense was lost on the other girls in the carriage, as Rahne wondered, "A Cajun? He sounds dashing."   
"He sounds exciting," Amara admitted with a blush.   
"He sounds intriguing," Jean finally conceded with a small laugh.   
"He sounds like my brother," Wanda remarked with a sour look, further grumbling, "Shameless heartbreaker." Jean frowned, and Kitty protested, "Wanda, you _are_ talking about your own brother and my sister's fiancé there." The perky brunette then turned to said sister and asked questioningly, "That is, you _are_ going to accept his marriage proposal, aren't you?" Jean's frown deepened, and she gave a helpless shrug of her shoulders.   
"Maybe," she murmured. "Pietro _is_ very charming, and he's from a good family, not to mention how greatly it would help mend Papa's relationship with your father, Wanda."   
"But you're not so sure you're ready for such a big commitment to him, are you?" Kitty guessed, and was answered again with a helpless shrug.   
"I'll talk it over with Papa and Miss Ororo," Jean mumbled. "I'm sure we'll be able to reach a decision by next week."   
"That's great," Rahne declared enthusiastically. "Won't it be fabulous if your engagement's announced at the same time that romantic Cajun arrives?"   
"Rahne, he's not necessarily romantic..." Jean laughed. And the carriage rolled on, carrying with it four giggling and chattering girls, a characteristically quiet Wanda, and a sulkier than usual Rogue. 


	3. Chapter Three

Kitty tossed the last dress in her closet onto the floor, still wearing only her nightgown and with several lacy ribbons tangled in her hair as she wailed in dismay, "I have nothing to wear!" Jean, looking gorgeous as always in lavender moiré, turned from the full-length mirror and her task of securing a carnation to her sash to calmly suggest, "What do you think of the pink dress?" Kitty's face scrunched up as though she'd just bitten into a lemon.   
"It's dirty," she groaned, flopping facedown onto the bed as though to demonstrate how hopeless her cause was.   
"Well then, how about the gray watered silk dress?" Jean suggested mildly, now finished with her task and smoothing away some loose tendrils of brilliant red hair behind her ears. Kitty frowned.   
"It makes me look at least ten years older," she grumbled. "And I most certainly have no intentions of looking like some old maid in front of that romantic Cajun." Jean tilted back her slender neck and laughed, reproving with mild amusement, "Kitty, you should know better than to assume that just because his ancestors were French he'll be a romantic person." Seeing the look on her baby sister's face and knowing that said sister was about to object, Jean quickly brought up her hand and remarked, "But, if you're going to insist, what do you think of wearing the blue dress?" Kitty pouted.   
"I already wore that just last week," she pointed out. Jean shrugged helplessly.   
"Fine then. How about the yellow one?"   
"But that's an afternoon dress, not a morning one."   
"All right, all right. Here, what do you think of the jade-green one with the hoop skirt and all the ribbons?"   
"That," Rogue cut in, "would be _mah_ dress." Kitty blushed, murmuring absently, "Then you wear it, Rogue, you'd look so pretty in it--it really brings out your eyes, and besides, green was never my color, anyway." 

Rogue shrugged and began to leave, figuring that any extra primping wasn't about to make her look any prettier or more charming than she could possibly look without turning into Jean, when at that moment Kitty happened to catch a glimpse of her more petulant sister's appearance and gasped, squeaking out, "Why, Rogue--you've dressed so carelessly without Miss Ororo's assistance!" Rogue's eyes instinctively sought out the nearest mirror, and she realized that her younger sister was right, she _had_ put very little effort into her appearance. Her dress was of a dull green velvet, certainly not tacky but nevertheless not at the height of that year's fashion, either, and her bonnet hadn't been tied carefully enough to prevent a few auburn-colored locks of hair from escaping. As for perfumes and colognes, Rogue hadn't bothered to carry even the simplest rose-scented sachet.   
"I mean, your corset's a mess--it makes your waist size look double your twenty inches!" Kitty was fretting as, her own dress dilemma forgotten, quickly turned to Jean for reinforcement. Jean shrugged helplessly, her glorious scarlet hair giving off faint scents of lavender as she tilted her head before finally speaking, "Kitty's got a point, Rogue, and you know how impolite it would be to greet one of Papa's guests dressed so untidily." Rogue scowled, dangerously on the verge of snapping and telling her older sister exactly what she thought of her perfectly coifed hair and her always fashionable silk dresses and her demure lavender-and-lilac-scented perfumes, before common sense inched its way back into her head and she forced herself to swallow her angry words and consent.   
"All right, fine," Rogue grumbled crossly. "If it will ease your conscience that Ah look and act like the ideal lady, then Ah'll change mah dress." Kitty's face lit up, and that famous happy smile which had charmed so many suitors shone dazzlingly as she squealed, "Great, Jean will help you choose a new dress and sachet, and I'll retie the stays of your corset, because God knows that you can go down at least two more inches at the waist!" Rogue's eyes widened, and she began to protest indignantly, "Now hold on a minute, what do you mean two more inches, do you want to cut me in half or what...?!" Kitty, happily turning a deaf ear to all protests, was already helping her out of her prim green dress so that she could rework the stays on her corset, having heard none of Rogue's heated protests.   
"All right, Sis, hold on to something," the pretty brunette warned cheerfully, positioning herself behind Rogue and getting ready to start tightening away. 

Rogue's eyes widened in alarm.   
"Now wait just a minute," she started to protest, "Ah've had enough of corsets cutting into mah ribs, and Ah'm not about to--ow!"   
"I told you to hold on to something so that it wouldn't hurt as much," Kitty reminded her in a carefree voice, as Rogue scowled and bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying out again.   
"Kitty," she warned in a deceptively low, calm voice, as her sister steadily began tightening the corset down to a twenty-inch waistline, "if you tug and pull on mah stays any longer, Ah'm going to faint!"   
"Oh, nonsense," Kitty breezed lightly. "I know you, Rogue--never fainted once in your life, and would rather die first than start doing so! Now come on, I think I can pull this corset down to nineteen inches!" Rogue's eyes widened at the prospect of the corset becoming any more painfully tight than it already was.   
"Kitty," she gasped, speaking each word slowly, deliberately, since the air was beginning to get cut off from her lungs by her tightening corset, "Ah'm serious this time, Ah really _will_ faint if you go below twenty inches!" Kitty ignored what she said, and after fumbling around with the lacy stays, finally leaned back to admire her masterpiece and announce grandly, "There! Nineteen-and-a-half inches! Aren't you thankful that I've gotten you down to nineteen-and-a-half inches after that atrocious twenty-two-inch waistline you had just a while ago?" Rogue was wondering to herself whether she should paint her face to bring back some color to her already magnolia-white cheeks; she was sure that the corset had turned her face blue from lack of air getting to her lungs.   
"Very thankful," she mumbled dryly, somehow managing to sound both sarcastic and out of breath at the same time. 

Jean, meanwhile, had been searching through the closets for appropriate dresses while Kitty was working on Rogue's corset, and now she turned around, carrying a frothy rose-colored taffeta dress that perfectly suited her youngest sister's delicately pretty features, and a dramatic green organdie which would bring out the green in Rogue's eyes and make them shine like emeralds.   
"Oh, that is so pretty..." Kitty's voice trailed off, and she happily danced over to her oldest sister and gave her a hug, before rushing off in a swirl of rosy skirts and jasmine-scented sachet and starting to get dressed.   
"Rogue?" Jean turned questioning blue-green eyes on the sister who wasn't looking quite as thrilled by the dresses as Kitty, asking, "Aren't you going to get dressed as well?" Rogue winced, clutching at her waist and gritting her teeth as she tried to sit down on her bed.   
"After a while," was all she could manage, still adjusting to breathing in her corset. "You and Kitty can go down first and do whatever you like with the Creole--"   
"Cajun," Kitty corrected her huffily from the full-length mirror, slipping on some pearl earrings as she did so.   
"Fine, Cajun," Rogue bit out testily. "Ah'll stay behind and adjust to mah new nineteen-and-a-half-inch waistline." A concerned expression washed over Jean's gentle features, and she inquired quietly, "Rogue, are you sure you're okay? I mean, I'm certain we still have time to rework the stays on your corset and loosen them a bit if they're that uncomfortable--"   
"Oh, nonsense," Kitty cut her off breezily, finishing tying her bonnet and now admiring her reflection in the mirror. "Rogue is perfectly slim, she can handle it."   
"Yeah, Ah can handle it," Rogue spoke up, not exactly wanting to be considered as the fat one in front of her perfectly gorgeous older sister. The mild frown failed to disappear from Jean's eyes, as she hesitated and asked, "Well, are you sure that...?"   
"Of course she's sure, she's already said so," Kitty cut in, done swishing her skirts around and ready to go downstairs and meet her gallant Cajun. "Now come on, Jean, let's go already, he should be here by now--and you know how rude it would be if Papa and Miss Ororo are trying to introduce him to the young ladies of the plantation and nobody shows up!" At the possibility of showing any degree of inhospitality to a guest, Jean finally relented and began heading for the door, Kitty eagerly behind her.   
"Well, Rogue, as soon as you're feeling better, get dressed and come join us downstairs," the statuesque redhead called out over her shoulder, and she and Kitty left in a blur of swishing skirts and ribbons. 

* * *

Wanda Maximoff irritably rode around the acres of land of her father's plantation, distractedly commanding her strawberry mare Scarlet to either speed up or slow down as she searched for her brother.   
"Sounds like a challenge," were the last words he'd uttered, tossing his trademark arrogant smirk back at his twin sister before speeding off on his white stallion Quicksilver. Wanda scowled as she remembered, silently cursing in a rather unladylike manner while continuing to search through the acres of rolling hills and forests. She should have known better than to propose a race to her brother; now the arrogant scoundrel had taken off and completely left her, leaving Wanda to aimlessly wander around their vast plantation in an effort to find him before dinnertime.   
"Pietro, you impudent little skunk," she hissed angrily under her breath, when her ears suddenly caught the sound of hooves trotting steadily against dirt, and the raven-haired vixen immediately snapped up in search of her brother. "Pietro?" 

A boy with longish blonde hair and a dark tan came sheepishly into view, riding on a chestnut stallion and wearing a friendly smile on his face.   
"Afraid not, Miss Wanda," Alex Summers called out, taking off his hat and sounding as cheerful as ever as he trotted up to the now viciously scowling girl. "But if it's your brother you're looking for, then you might want to pay a visit to Mr. Xavier's plantation." Wanda's head snapped up when she realized that her dear twin brother wasn't even at their own plantation anymore.   
"What?" she hissed in a very unladylike manner. "He's where?" Alex shrugged.   
"I guess he went there to call on Miss Jean," he pointed out, hoping to placate some of Wanda's anger. "Are you going to go there as well?" Wanda's eyes narrowed grimly.   
"Yes," she gritted through clenched teeth, spelling out Pietro's inescapable doom with that one single word.   
"Oh, well, bye then," Alex stammered, as Wanda pushed past him and made a beeline for the nearest shortcut to the Xavier plantation. "Say, uh, Miss Wanda, did I ever tell you how pretty you are...?" Wanda was already several yards away by then, having failed to hear or maybe just pretending to not have heard a word of his blushingly squeaked out praise. Alex shrugged, and replaced his hat back atop his blonde head.   
"Eh, guess not," he muttered to himself, then clucked at his own horse to trot away as well. 

* * *

Rogue took a few gingerly steps around the room, biting down on her lip to prevent from wincing as the stays of her corset cut deeper into her waist. After several more minutes, during which she finally convinced herself that she could now walk around if not in the graceful, lilting steps of a Southern lady then at least in a normal way and not like some newborn colt, she began to dress, letting the rich green organdie material descend over her corset and petticoat and stepping into a pair of darker green velvet slippers. As Rogue began walking down the stairway to join her sisters, she could already hear Kitty's silvery laughter as the perky brunette chatted with the Cajun in French.   
"I must apologize for my daughter Rogue," Xavier's voice cut in just then. "I don't know what's the matter with her. She should be here by now."   
"That's no problem, Mr. Xavier." The youthful masculine voice that responded was tinged with a mixture of a French and Southern accent, and Rogue silently wondered whether this was the way all Cajuns spoke as she finally managed to totter and stumble her way down the stairs in as ladylike fashion as she could muster. 

"Papa, Ah'm sorry about how late Ah am," she began to apologize automatically as her father's distinguished figure came into view. "Ah was, um..." Adjusting herself to her corset wasn't exactly an appropriate excuse to be given in the presence of men, and Rogue couldn't help but color slightly at the thought of even uttering such words. Fortunately, Jean came to her rescue, as she spoke in her usual calm voice, "But the important thing is that we're all here, right Papa?" And she turned anxious viridian eyes on her father, as if silently pleading him not to reprove Rogue in front of company for her tardiness. An awkward pause fell on the group as Xavier considered her words, before glancing up and offering a half-smile as he agreed, "You're right, Jean." Turning to the Cajun, he said, "Mr. LeBeau, allow me to introduce my middle daughter, Rogue." Amused black eyes, tinted with shades of red, glanced over leisurely at the girl in the green dress, who was now fiddling around uncomfortably with the lacy ribbons on her skirts and doing everything to avoid direct eye contact. Hearing confident footsteps begin to approach, Rogue realized that the Cajun--Mr. LeBeau, her father had called him--was heading her way and finally raised her head, catching her first glimpse of the ruggedly handsome young man standing before her.   
"Ah, bonjour, ma chérie," he drawled, taking one of her gloved hands and placing a brief kiss on it.   
"Oh..." Two thoughts ran through Rogue's head. One was that Jean was wrong for a change, and Cajuns really were handsome and gallant and romantic. The second, as she silently swore and kicked herself, was a lamentation for not having paid any attention to her French lessons at the girls' academy she'd been subjected to for the past ten years. 


	4. Chapter Four

Rogue cast her eyes steadfastly down as she rode slowly on her chestnut mare, not out of demure politeness in the presence of an older man but rather, because she was afraid that should she meet those laughing red-tinted black eyes, her heart would be on her face and all her feelings would come out in a rushed and awkward torrent of clumsily-expressed words. Which in itself would have been humiliating enough as it was, but with Ororo's nephew Evan riding a couple of paces behind to play the role of both body servant and chaperone, Rogue didn't even want to imagine how fast gossip of her slip up would spread all over the county.   
"So, this is certainly a magnificent plantation, Mademoiselle." She heard his drawling voice, and remembered with some amusement how he'd taken to calling her by that title after Ororo, who'd traveled to Europe in her youth, had glanced over sharply when Mr. LeBeau had decided that it was Xavier's middle daughter he would bestow with the more intimate reference of chérie.   
"Why thank you, Mr. LeBeau," Rogue replied in almost a whisper, trying to imitate sister Jean's graceful charm.   
"Please, Mademoiselle, feel free to call me Remy," Mr. LeBeau--Remy--told her with a pleasant grin, and Rogue couldn't help but color faintly.   
"All right, Mr...er, Remy," she finished blushingly, already starting to forget that Evan was only a couple of paces behind them. _Let Miss Ororo find out,_ she thought defiantly to herself. _It's not like Ah'm being inappropriately forward with Remy--he's the one going out of his way to strike up conversation, anyway!_

* * *

Ororo Munroe had, indeed, realized that Rogue had taken a liking to the charming Cajun Remy LeBeau, and it displeased the elegantly dignified woman more than the prospect of her falling for her sister's future fiancé Pietro Maximoff. Ororo knew the types of men with Remy's charm and reputation, although why the dashing Cajun, whom she suspected enjoyed both fast living and fast women, had decided to court the least dazzling of the three sisters had been a puzzle that she hadn't been able to figure out yet. _Either way, the last thing Miss Rogue needs is some reckless young heartbreaker posing as a gallant gentleman to break her heart when she has yet to experience any true love,_ Ororo thought darkly to herself. 

Which was why, as she was headed out to town to run some errands, she found herself feeling doubly glad when she encountered by pure chance an old acquaintance from her early travels to Europe.   
"Miss Ororo? Is that you? It must be you, for I have yet to meet a lady more elegant and dignified such as yourself," the handsome blonde man atop his horse spoke in a polite, British-accented voice, slowing down his surprisingly obedient black stallion when he happened to catch a glimpse of Ororo as she'd leaned out her carriage to give some instructions to the driver. Ororo herself was rather surprised to see him, for she'd never expected to meet him again after she'd returned to the United States to work for Xavier. And he had certainly grown so much from the fair-haired young boy, barely in his teenage years, that she remembered.   
"Why Mr. Worthington, what a pleasant surprise," she said, warmth in her voice as she quickly ordered the driver to stop so she could chat. "And how is your family doing, may I ask? How is your sister?" Warren Worthington III smiled again, running a hand through his sunny blonde hair as he replied, "They're doing quite well, thank you very much. And my sister recently announced her engagement to Sir Braddock's son, in fact; funny that you should mention her."   
"I see. Well, my warmest congratulations to the happy couple." Ororo had only a faint idea as to who Sir Braddock was, nor did she very much care to confirm any information on him at that moment, either, for Warren's mention of his sister being engaged had reminded her that there was a certain young lady at the plantation who was very much without a fiancé and in desperate need of one to protect her against the Cajun's advances.   
"And if I'm not being too forward in asking," Ororo chose her words carefully, "how are you doing as far as the future Mrs. Warren Worthington III is concerned--or is there one, already?"   
"Oh," Warren smiled guiltily, absently running a hand through his hair, "I haven't, er, exactly been courting anybody lately, Miss Ororo."   
"I see." Ororo took notice of this little piece of information, smoothly covering up her intentions with an appropriately embarrassed smile and blush as she quickly apologized, "I'm sorry, Mr. Worthington, it must be the hot sun that's distracting me, for I usually would not have forgotten my manners by asking so bold and personal a question."   
"That is quite all right, Miss Ororo," Warren replied pleasantly, and Ororo wasted little time hesitating as she plunged on.   
"But you see, Mr. Worthington, the gentleman I work for happens to have three daughters--all lovely young girls, they'll be delighted to meet you one of these days, I'm sure--and it just happens that one of them..." Ororo thought fast, wondering how to state that Rogue needed a suitor in a delicate manner, "she is without an escort to the Acquillas' party this Saturday...she's a very charming young lady, I assure you, and--"   
"Say no more, Miss Ororo," Warren interrupted. "I'll be honored to accompany this young lady whose father you work for."   
"Thank you," Ororo answered modestly, grateful that he'd bailed her out before she had to use more indelicate ways to hint that he should try his hand at courting Rogue. Turning to her driver and motioning for him that he should resume his path, she bid good-bye to Warren and tilted her face away from him to hide a smile. 

* * *

Jean couldn't help but smile as Bobby Drake continued to eagerly follow her like some adoring puppy dog, turning around with friendly viridian eyes and stating in as gentle a voice as possible, "Bobby, this is very sweet of you to accompany me around the forest like this, but everybody's expecting me to announce my engagement to Pietro at Mr. Acquilla's party this weekend, and--"   
"Well, are you going to?" Bobby broke in, a last ray of hope still shining brightly in his eyes. Jean graced him with a fond smile; Bobby was so sweet and eager to please, but he was after all too young for her, and she'd never taken his attempts at courting her as anything more than child's play, something to occupy his time with until someone else caught his fancy and he moved on to a girl closer to his age.   
"Probably, yes," the beautiful redhead replied evenly, feeling a tug at her heart when she saw Bobby's crestfallen look at the realization that Pietro Maximoff had won again, as usual.   
"Oh," was all the devastated boy could say, and Jean, struggling to think of something that might cheer him up, reached over and lightly touched his arm to get him to look at her.   
"Listen, Bobby," she began, "I'm going to the party with Pietro, but as far as I know, Rogue has no escort yet."   
"You mean I should...?" Bobby's voice trailed off uncertainly, and Jean could understand, realizing with a wince that Rogue had hardly given even the boys she knew well the light of day, least of all Bobby, whom she was barely even acquaintances with.   
"Please, Bobby, it would mean a lot to me that you go with her," she pleaded. "I know she might be a bit aloof and cool, but she's my sister and also very captivating once you really get to know her."   
"Well..." Bobby still looked uncertain, as he bit down on his lower lip and shuffled his feet around on the dirt. "I was thinking of asking Miss Rahne Sinclair if you turned me down..."   
"Miss Rahne? Why Bobby, you already know that Sam Guthrie's been courting her for months now," Jean reproved mildly, and Bobby frowned.   
"In that case, I guess I will ask your sister," he finally agreed, and Jean smiled, glad that now Rogue would have no more reason to mope and sulk at parties because she was one of the few young and marriageable girls who wasn't surrounded by a flock of suitors. 

* * *

Ray Crisp wore an expression of utter disbelief on his face when he heard Kitty's request, completely forgetting all the etiquette that ought to be employed when talking with a lady and echoing incredulously, "You want me to start courting your sister?!" Kitty placed her small hands on her waist, pouting and firing back, "And why not? Certainly you have a reputation in this county as being one of the wilder ones, I'm sure Rogue will find that more intriguing than if some perfect gentleman bogged down by manners and chivalry were trying to woo her." Ray laughed coldly, snapping in a blunt tone of voice, "I may be one of the wilder ones, as you've so eloquently put it, but I've got enough sense not to tangle with your sister after she nearly hit Todd Tolensky last spring!" Kitty frowned and blushed at the memory, defending her sister, "Yeah, well, Todd is nothing but a white trash scalawag anyway, so it's not like he didn't deserve it." Ray shrugged her excuse off and went back to cleaning his pistol, as Kitty thought up a new approach and began to singsong while fluttering her eyelashes, "Besides, Ray, you're not scared that my sister will have enough sense and spirit to hit you as well for acting rudely around her, now are you?" Ray snapped up in anger, and the gun in his lap nearly went off at his sudden action, causing Kitty to let out a little scream and jump back.   
"Of course I'm not scared of your sister!" he hissed angrily, looking like he wanted to throttle Kitty for even insinuating that. Kitty smiled back in a maddening way.   
"Then prove it," she challenged, surprising them both at the way everybody's favorite little sweetheart of the Xavier plantation was showing so much spunk.   
"Miss Kitty, since when have you been so forward in speech and action?" Ray inquired, not out of viciousness but rather, pure curiosity. Kitty turned pink, trying to shrug it off as she spoke softly, "At least escort my sister to the party at the Acquilla plantation this Saturday. Please. Rogue truly is a lovely person, inside and out, and she deserves better than to sit around with the matrons while all the other girls are dancing because you men are too scared of her spirit and her strength to try courting her." Ray swore under his breath that the cute little kitty cat was far more manipulative than she appeared, but grudgingly gave in and accepted curtly, "All right. Miss Rogue _is_ a beautiful and intriguing person, once you get past her shrewish ways." Kitty laughed happily when she heard his words, cheering, "I'll forget that last part and you'll go to my sister right now and we'll call it even!" 

* * *

Pietro looked surprised when he heard Ororo's words that Jean was absent from the plantation.   
"She's not here?" His silver brows knitted together above his sky-blue eyes in a frown, and he ventured, "What about Miss Kitty and, uh, Miss Rogue? Have they all gone out together?"   
"No, Miss Jean wasn't expecting any visitors today," Ororo reminded him pointedly, "so she went out for a walk. As for Miss Kitty, she left as well to visit the Crisp plantation, and Miss Rogue is actually preoccupied right now with introducing a guest to the family plantation. If you'll just wait, though, I'm sure all three of them will return in no time."   
"I, uh, don't think I have too much time to wait around," Pietro replied hastily, remembering that he'd ditched Wanda for his little impromptu call on his future bride and thinking about his twin sister's infamous wrath. But then again, what good would it do for him to go back now? Wanda would surely be out for blood at that point in time, considering how late he was probably making her. Pietro cursed his spontaneity, as he decided that he might as well stay and wait it out so his sister's anger might have a chance of cooling off.   
"But then again, what kind of suitor would I be if I just came by for five minutes and then left again without seeing the lovely lady?" he rebounded smoothly, settling himself into the nearest chair. "I'll wait." 

Pietro had barely waited for five minutes when the sound of hooves signaled someone's arrival, and the silver-haired youth eagerly leapt up to his seat, scanning the acres of lush green cotton fields to see if it was Jean. Or, perhaps, Rogue even...A tall, blonde gentleman riding expertly on a black stallion quickly chased away his initial hopes that it might be either of the two striking redheads, as Ororo immediately smiled and greeted, "Mr. Worthington, I'm so glad you're able to pay a visit to this plantation so soon." Pietro's curious blue eyes darted rapidly between the two, wondering to himself what was going on as the blonde-haired gentleman smoothly reined in his horse, bringing the massive midnight-colored beast to a stop and respectfully taking his hat off in the presence of a lady.   
"I've come here to, uh, call on the young lady of the house, as per your request," Warren reminded her in words tinged with a British accent, and Pietro frowned, deciding that he must be courting Miss Kitty since Miss Jean was already engaged to him and nobody but a Maximoff would have the boldness to court a sullen wallflower like Miss Rogue. Ororo was smiling, saying delicately, "Ah, yes, of course. If it isn't too much trouble, could you please wait while I go inform the patriarch of the family of your arrival?" Warren smiled pleasantly.   
"But of course," he agreed, and Ororo quickly gathered up her skirts and rustled efficiently into the house, taking with her a light breeze of verbena fragrances. 

Warren had barely gotten off his horse and settled himself into a chair on the porch next to Pietro than a new pair rode up, and the latter's eyes immediately lit up at the sight of his statuesque future fiancée, then clouded in a frown when he saw that she was escorted by Bobby Drake of all people. Warren, meanwhile, had also glanced up in interest when he heard the familiar sound of hooves clopping on a dirt road, remembering Miss Ororo's request that he call on a young lady at the plantation. All the elegant African-American woman had disclosed was that said young lady was a beautiful redhead named Miss Rogue, and Warren, seeing the lovely sixteen-year-old girl riding toward him with sunlight dancing on her glorious red hair, immediately assumed that she must be the young lady. Standing up, he began walking toward the red-haired girl, reaching up and offering to help her off her horse, which she accepted with a surprised look and a modest blush. As he'd already taken his hat off to greet Miss Ororo, Warren chose to sweep down in a respectful bow, beginning to say, "You must be the famous belle of the Xavier plantation Miss Ororo was talking about." In an instant, Pietro had zipped up and stood possessively next to Jean, spitting out jealously, "Yes she is, so who might you be and what are you doing making all these unwanted advances on her?" Warren looked taken aback by his behavior, as he started to say, "Why, Miss Ororo asked me to call on her during my stay here."   
"She did?" Twin expressions of surprise flashed across both Jean and Pietro's faces, as they alternated between looking at each other to looking at the proud mansion that Miss Ororo had disappeared into a few minutes earlier. 

At that moment, a second pair of arrivals came into view, as Kitty and Ray rode up, the former chattering a mile a minute, the latter smoldering sullenly atop his cremelo stallion and occasionally responding with the obligatory grunt. Kitty waved sunnily from atop her little strawberry mare, calling out to her sister happily, "Hey, Jean, guess who's come to call on Rogue?"   
"Why Bobby Drake, of course," Jean replied neutrally, at the same time that Warren looked at her in alarm and asked, "Forgive me for asking this, but you're not Miss Rogue?"   
"No, she's my fiancée, Miss Jean," Pietro seethed to the blonde Englishman's consternation and embarrassment, at the same time that Kitty wondered, dumbfounded, "Huh, what do you mean Bobby? It's Ray Crisp!"   
"So, Miss Ororo told you to call on Miss Rogue, huh?" Pietro began, the possessive, jealous edge in his voice failing to disappear as he talked with Warren, who nodded.   
"Yes." He then shrugged his broad shoulders, admitting helplessly, "However, I'm afraid I don't know who Miss Rogue is." 

_"Ah'm_ Rogue," a female voice, tinged with a much stronger Southern accent than that of the present two ladies, spoke up curiously, as Rogue finally made her much anticipated appearance, riding side by side now with Remy and with Evan trailing several feet behind them. Pietro was the first one to zip up to her before she'd even had the chance to get off her horse, arrogantly tossing his headful of shining platinum-colored hair and sneering, "Well, so the little princess has finally chosen to grace us with her presence! It's not polite to be absent when someone comes calling on you, Miss Rogue...especially when that someone happens to be me!" Warren turned in confusion to the second redhead who'd appeared, beginning to say apologetically, "So you're Miss Rogue? Miss Ororo has requested that I call on you during my stay here in Mississippi..." Bobby jumped up, piping, "Hey, Miss Rogue, long time no see, huh? I mean, you're all going to the party on the Acquillas' plantation, tomorrow, right? Miss Rogue, I'd love to escort you there if you'll allow me, and you simply must promise me at least the last dance of the night and a seat by you at dinner!" Ray, after some prodding and pushing from Kitty, got up and grunted in a surly tone, "Funny, because _I_ came here to call on Miss Rogue and ask her for at least the last dance of the evening and a seat by her at dinner as well." Rogue listened with wide-eyed disbelief, and the only thing preventing her jaw to slacken and drop to the ground in shock was the years of Ororo's careful training in the etiquette of a Southern lady of high social position. Only a day before she had been the thorn amidst the two roses of the Xavier plantation, petulant in demeanor and shrewish in reputation, with men even paying attention to her only because of out of either bravado (Pietro) or ignorance of her coldly sarcastic ways (Remy). Now she actually had more young men scrambling to be her escort than she knew what to do with, and Rogue turned and looked helplessly at Remy, who was watching all this with an amused twinkle in his eyes. _Hn, lot of help he's going to be, _she thought sourly to herself, noting that he seemed more ready to laugh at the events unfolding in front of him rather than step in and tell all the suitors that he would be escorting her to the party, even if he'd mentioned no such thing during their ride together because he didn't know there was going to be a party and Rogue had been too shy to tell him and have him think she wanted him to ask her.   
"Well, Rogue?" Kitty was looking at her sister with eager cornflower-blue eyes, and even Jean had turned around to see which beau she would choose. Rogue looked with sullenness at the crop of suitors that had suddenly sprung up, before holding her head high and replying defiantly, "Ah'm afraid Ah'll have to deny y'all the burden of escorting to the party." She shot a look at Remy, who was now looking at her face with interest to see what she would do next, and the expression in his eyes gave her enough confidence to drop her bombshell.   
"You see," Rogue revealed with a half-smile, "Ah've already promised all the dances to Mr...er, Remy here beside me!" 


	5. Chapter Five

The steady clopping sound of horses' hooves treading at an even pace brought Rogue's mind back to the present, and she wondered exactly when she had stopped paying attention to her scenic, almost picture perfect surroundings, and allowed her mind to wander off into daydreams. Saturday had finally arrived, and with it the Acquillas' all-day party that had apparently inspired Miss Ororo, Jean, _and_ Kitty to practically throw eligible young men at Rogue as escorts to the ball. Rogue smirked as she remembered that afternoon when she'd returned to the plantation to discover herself the center of attention with Warren, Bobby, and Ray, her amusement growing when she recalled the unmistakable look of jealousy that had flashed briefly across Pietro's face before it was replaced at lightning speed by his usual arrogant smirk. Rogue's amusement soon disappeared, however, when she also recalled how she'd lied and said that she'd already promised all the dances to Remy when the Cajun hadn't even known about the party. At the time he'd simply leaned back on his horse and smirked and said nothing, but since then Rogue hadn't had a chance to catch him alone so that she could ask him whether he would escort her to the party after all. She'd tried to reassure herself by reasoning that Remy couldn't possibly be surrounded by people at all times, and that she'd be able to talk to him privately some other time. What she hadn't counted on was Saturday arriving so quickly, and now, as she sat in the carriage next to Jean and Kitty and watched the gentlemen riding on horses beside the young ladies, it was too late. Remy was riding a couple of paces in front of the carriage, carrying on a polite conversation with Charles Xavier. Once, when Kitty had been busy pointing out the families of blue jays and sparrows noisily fighting over the azalea shrubs to Jean, he'd glanced back and flashed a wink in her direction, but other than that Rogue had had no other signs as to whether he intended to be her escort at the party. 

Just because she didn't know whether or not Remy would even spare a look in her direction that day, however, hadn't prevented her from dressing up in case he did dance with her. Ororo had laced the stays of her corset to form a nineteen-inch waistline, which made breathing difficult enough that she almost feared fainting at the party but dazzlingly showed off her new green moiré dress. Jean had lent her her diamond earrings, while Kitty had tucked a fragrant sprig of honeysuckle into her dark auburn hair lest the diamonds and conservative lemon verbena sachet give the impression that Rogue was any older than her fifteen years. 

The extra primping worked, when the short trip to the Acquilla plantation ended and Rogue happened to be the first girl to step out of the carriage. Immediately, young men who had previously passed her over as merely the charming Misses Jean and Kitty's ill-tempered sister now rushed and jostled each other to help her out of the carriage, to hold her hand, to fan her face and neck, to get her drinks and garlands that she had no use for, and to request dances for the ball that evening. The fact that everybody assumed Miss Jean's engagement to Pietro Maximoff would be announced that evening had taken the statuesque older redhead pretty much off the market, and now her suitors flocked to Rogue, who only a mere two weeks earlier had appeared her usual petulant and surly self at the Summers' party and who had now reappeared as a dazzling belle. Rogue nearly fainted at this sudden onslaught of new beaus that had rushed at her, trying to push through the sea of ruffled shirts and starched breeches to see where Remy was. Out of the corner of her eyes she caught a glimpse of Kitty being dragged off by Kurt to see something amazing that he just had to show her, while at the same time Pietro sauntered over to greet his bride-to-be, sweeping down with a flourish as he bowed at Jean while catching Rogue's eye at the same time and smirking and making a gesture of tipping his hat, which he'd just taken off a few moments earlier to greet Miss Amara and now his future fiancée, in her direction. Rogue frowned irritably at the blush which had seeped up her cheeks at Pietro's gesture, before shaking away mental images of the smirking silver-haired youth and continuing to try and look for Remy. Her eyebrows slanted together sharply above her olive-green eyes in poorly concealed anger, when Ray nearly slapped a harsh red mark right against her snow-white cheek with a palmetto fan, then nearly sneezed when St. John Allerdyce thrust a cluster of orchids practically right up her nostrils. _This has gone on long enough,_ Rogue thought dryly to herself. _If Ah don't get away from all these so-called suitors, Ah'll definitely suffer one kind of injury or another before the morning party's even over! _There was also the fact that she wanted to talk to Remy, to merely catch a glimpse of him, even, which was rather hard to do when Bobby's silly grinning face was hovering right in front of her own more delicate one, asking if he could bring her another glass of water.   
"Ah told you already--" Rogue began to snap frostily, forgetting all of Miss Ororo's careful teachings on manners and etiquette, before an idea suddenly formulated in her head about how she could ditch her suitors and seek out Remy. She smoothed her features into a saccharine sweet smile, fluttering her eyelashes in what she hoped was a coquettish fashion as she murmured, "Ah _would_ appreciate some water, after all, if you'll be so kind as to fetch me some." Bobby was off like a shot, and Rogue next turned her attention to St. John, cooing sweetly, "And John, those orchids were lovely, but you know mah favorite flower is the fuchsia..." 

After five minutes, all her unwanted suitors had been sent off on one little errand or another, and Rogue was about to head off and search for Remy when she felt a small, shy tug on the rustling green skirts of her moiré dress. She turned around slowly, only to realize that one young man still remained.   
"Miss Rogue? Is there anything I can do for you?" a blushing twelve-year-old Jamie Maddox asked timidly, and Rogue internally cringed and searched for the gentlest way to turn the young boy down.   
"Oh, Jamie," she began earnestly, "please don't take this the wrong way, but..." At that moment, Kitty's carefree laughter sounded, and her ears perked up and she quickly changed the subject, "Ah'm not supposed to tell you this, Jamie, but mah sister, Kitty, thinks rather highly of you." Jamie's face flushed with delight and embarrassment, as he echoed in awe, "Is it true? Miss Kitty likes me?" Rogue felt guilty about unloading the twelve-year-old little boy on Kitty...but then again, she _was_ the one who'd set her up with Ray Crisp and his palmetto fan, after all, and the auburn-haired girl soon convinced herself that this was just a highly appropriate thank you gift.   
"Absolutely true, Jamie, the only reason she's talking to Kurt now is because you're not supposed to know until you're old enough to start courting girls," she lied with a straight face. "However, Ah'm sure mah sister will appreciate a little attention from you--nothing big, just a carnation, maybe, or a request to sit by her side at dinner..." Jamie frowned thoughtfully, looked over in the direction of Kitty, who was still chatting with Kurt, and squared his twelve-year-old shoulders as though preparing to go off to battle.   
"All right, then," he said, and Rogue gave him a small push in Kitty's direction, barely containing her laughter as the brown-haired boy determinedly marched off. 

All of Rogue's would-be suitors were now taken care of, especially the ones that Miss Ororo and her sisters had tried to set her up with--Warren seemed much more interested in Jean than in Rogue, and was currently carrying on a pleasant conversation with the statuesque redhead, whose dashing silver-haired future fiancé had slipped off to somewhere. Hot-tempered Ray, whose only reason for calling on Rogue in the first place was because of Kitty's prodding, had found his way to a boulder under a huge oak tree, and was now brooding and glowering beneath its shade. And Bobby, who'd initially been smitten by Rogue's suddenly more dazzling appearance, had paused on his way to get her some water and was now watching in amusement as Kitty tried to shake off Jamie in vain. Rogue held in her laughter, lest she risk fainting from how tightly her corset was laced, and discreetly slipped away from where most of the youths were gathered, intent on looking for Remy and finding out his true feelings about her promising all her dances to him. She spotted a tall youth leaning against a young tree, with an air of gallantry and self-assurance that only Remy could have, his hat sitting smartly atop his head to shade it from the hot sun. Rogue eagerly sped up her pace to a light trot, and swiftly approached him as quickly as her dainty velvet slippers and her corset would allow her. 

"Remy, Ah'm sorry if Ah was being too forward and unladylike when Ah told everyone that Ah'd already promised all the dances to you when you hadn't even asked," she began apologetically, slightly out of breath from having jogged while being tightly laced into her nineteen-inch waistline. The young man turned around upon hearing her words, and Rogue felt her face drain of all color when she realized, to her dismay, that he was certainly not Remy LeBeau. Pietro grinned lazily in her direction, flicking off a small leaf that had just fallen onto the shoulder of his coat, before drawling with his trademark arrogant sneer, "So I see, the dashing Mr. LeBeau hadn't even asked you yet for a single dance that day...and nor has he still, I'm willing to bet." Rogue scowled, her eyes flaring cold emerald as she snapped, "And so what if he hadn't? It was still better at the moment than having to stand your jeers!" Pietro opened his blue eyes their widest, reminding her with fake concern, "My, my, Miss Rogue, it's certainly an unladylike trait to lie like that. I wonder what Miss Ororo would think of it if she knew."   
"She doesn't know," Rogue replied, tight-lipped but now wary. "And you will never tell her, not if you expect any peace and quiet in your marriage to mah sister." Pietro looked only amused by her angry threat, which served to infuriate her all the more, as he drawled lazily, "Do go on, I'm quite interested in hearing just how you plan to make my married life completely miserable if I inform Miss Ororo of your ungracefully bold ways." Rogue scowled, snapping in her rage, "For one thing, Ah would never let any sister of mine be married to an arrogant scoundrel like you!"   
"Well, nobody can accuse you of lacking ambition and courage in that case, then," came the playful retort, and Rogue's eyes narrowed before she suddenly saw just how much Pietro was enjoying teasing her and watching her furious but helpless and weak responses to his taunts. The auburn-haired girl set her lips in a firm line, telling herself that if a Maximoff was going to make an amusing show out of her emotions, then by God she would turn the tables on him.   
"Why thank you for the compliment, Mr. Maximoff," she abruptly shifted gears, smoothing her eyebrows which had before slanted sharply across her forehead at Pietro's goading. "Ah always knew you'd appreciate some strength and personality rather than just silly and giggling empty vessels." Pietro looked suspicious at her sudden change in personality, before realization dawned upon him and he wasted no time in flirting back, "And you're certainly quite the classy lady to notice that and praise me for it, when it's obvious you would much rather hit me before running off to find that so very charming Cajun gentleman of yours, now isn't it?" Rogue pretended to be surprised, fluttering her eyelashes innocently and replying, "Why, Ah haven't the faintest where you would get that idea from, Pietro. You know Ah've always admired you as the most dashing gentleman this state has to offer; Ah would never dream of laying one finger against you!" It was getting rather silly now, and Rogue herself could barely contain her laughter when she saw the look on Pietro's face at her attempt at charming him by bestowing him with the title of the most dashing gentleman in Mississippi. Unfortunately for her, Pietro had noticed her barely concealed mirth as well, changing direction and telling her with a smirk, "Come on, go ahead and laugh. You know you want to...just don't faint, all right, because I'm the last person here who would be walking around carrying smelling salts!"   
"Ah don't know what you're talking about," Rogue tried to keep a straight face, but already a grin was peeking out from the corners of her lips as she gushed, "Why would little old me laugh at such a, um, gallant and noble and handsome gentleman?" Pietro threw back his head and laughed outright, nearly causing Rogue to do so as well, but her own mirth quickly disappeared when he informed her with poorly concealed mockery, "Why Miss Rogue, you must not have been paying much attention when Miss Ororo tried to teach you about flattery, because your attempts at being charming are downright hilarious!" Rogue scowled, shooting back icily, "And you yourself must not have been paying much attention when your father tried to teach you about etiquette, either, Mr. Maximoff, because you're still the biggest cad the South has ever been cursed with!" And she spun on her heels and stalked off, her skirts swishing loudly and the honeysuckle in her hair trailing a fragrant breeze in the air after her, while Pietro simply leaned back and watched the departing girl with an unreadable smirk on his face. 

* * *

Evening had arrived, and with it came the much anticipated ball as the stately Acquilla mansion glittered like a star amid the velvety darkness of twilight with its diamond-and-gold chandelier lighting up the dance floor. Rogue irritably blew away a strand of hair that was forever falling into her eyes, watching the young girls in their brightly-colored hoop skirts and flashy jewelry dancing with beaus. After storming away from Pietro that morning, Rogue had tried in vain to find Remy and have a private conversation with him, but when she finally managed to catch a glimpse of the Cajun, Tabitha Smith had practically latched herself onto his arms and dragged him off to see the flower garden with her. Rogue was still furious at the blonde bombshell for that particular incident, especially considering how Remy's eyes had met hers and he'd made a movement as though to head across the plantation grounds toward her, before Tabitha had popped out of nowhere dragged him away. Rogue had bristled over the particular incident, but didn't have time to dwell on the thought of Remy with Tabitha for too long, because at that moment John showed up to offer her a hastily thrown together bouquet of fuchsias she barely remembered she'd asked of him, muttering something about how Mrs. Acquilla wouldn't be too happy the next morning when she went to inspect her flower beds. Afterwards, Rogue had spent the rest of the morning dodging one suitor after another while trying to get a moment alone with Remy, which she soon discovered was pretty much impossible when she'd found him surrounded by a growing group of giggling girls, Tabitha still latched firmly onto his arm. He'd only glanced up once, somehow sensing her presence a few yards away from his cluster of adoring fans, but the minute he'd looked her in the eye Rogue had gathered her skirts and walked away as well, much like she did from Pietro a couple of hours earlier. 

Rogue now watched the dancing couples underneath the massive, elegant chandelier, slouching down further in her seat and ignoring the disapproving glances the matrons seated nearby were shooting in her direction. So what if they thought she was acting like a wallflower, or that she demonstrated bad etiquette through her posturing, or that she was fast for having been surrounded by so many admirers that morning only to have sent each and every single one of them away by noon. Rogue could barely resist rolling her eyes heavenward, settling instead for forcefully tucking her unruly strand of hair behind her ear.   
"Having fun?" a dismayingly familiar male voice spoke up from directly in front of her, and Rogue started at the sound of his voice, flustered that in her sour mood she'd failed to even realize he was approaching until he was standing right in front of her.   
"Ah don't have the patience for your little games, Pietro, so why don't you go ahead and just say what you want," she told him in a listless voice, too tired of the party to even sound angry.   
"I didn't come all the way here just to insult you," Pietro told her innocently, "if that's what you were thinking."   
"Of course not," Rogue humored him with half-hearted sarcasm, darting him a testy look as she demanded, "So what did you come here for, then?"   
"To ask you if you wanted to dance," he surprised her by saying, without a single hint of mockery in his voice. Rogue glanced at him from the corners of her eyes, her brows lowered suspiciously over them as she echoed, "To dance? Why with me?" Pietro shrugged.   
"Well, I couldn't let a lovely young lady such as yourself just sit in some corner with the washed up old matrons and sulk and pout, like you're doing right now," he told her, and Rogue frowned at the insult that had been snuck into his compliment about her being lovely. "And besides, your sister seems more interested in talking about books and music with that Englishman than in dancing--hey, not my fault I've got better things to do, like marksmanship and gambling and riding horses, than sit down and read old plays by some guy who's been dead for over two hundred years so I can discuss them with her!"   
"Yeah, God forbid you do something intellectual every once in a while," Rogue muttered dryly under her breath, and Pietro shot her a smirk.   
"You're one to talk, there, Miss Rogue," he reminded her in that maddening tone of his, "considering how you don't exactly have a stellar academic record yourself." Rogue glared at him.   
"If that's the way you think you'll convince me to dance with you," she gritted out acidly, "then forget it. Ah'd rather be a wallflower than dance with someone who seems to have nothing better to do than insult me."   
"I'm sorry," Pietro apologized smoothly, and Rogue blinked in surprise, never expecting those humbling two words, no matter how carelessly spoken or insincere-sounding, to ever come out of a Maximoff's lips. "So, then, Miss Rogue, may I have this dance?" Rogue debated with herself, already feeling the matrons' eyes fixed on her like hawks, waiting to judge her actions with her sister's future fiancé. _Why not?_ a voice in her mind argued. _Who cares what these old shrews think about you, anyway, they're always gossipping...and besides, it's not as if Remy'll just miraculously show up and ask you to dance; he's probably too busy entertaining Tabitha and Amara and all those other girls._   
"Ah guess so..." she began to say, her voice trailing off uncertainly before she could complete a full sentence. 

"I'm afraid, Mr. Maximoff, that Miss Rogue here won't be able to dance with you tonight," a familiar voice tinged with a rolling accent that was a mixture of French and Southern spoke up. Both Rogue and Pietro looked over in the speaker's direction, and Remy LeBeau glanced right back with amused, easygoing red-tinted black eyes.   
"After all," he continued smoothly, "she'd already promised all the dances to me that afternoon we rode back to the plantation, or have you forgotten that?" A stretch of silence fell over the group, before Rogue was the first one to speak up and break it.   
"Of course not, Mr. LeBeau," she replied graciously, standing up and smoothing over her full skirts. "Why, Ah'll be delighted to dance with you." 


	6. Chapter Six

"...And I'll be a street serenader...la dee da...hee hee, and everybody'll love me...and they'll throw money...and I'll buy brandy...la dee da..." 

Miss Ororo's silver brows met above her eyes in a worried frown, as she alternated between looking in concern at the splendidly-dressed girl to practically glaring at the handsome young man who was cradling her in his arms.   
"What exactly _did_ happen at the Acquillas' all-day party that would leave her like this?" the elegant African-American woman admonished, while Rogue continued to sing out gibberish and giggle rather foolishly from her position nested in Remy's arms.   
"She, ah, apparently got a bit tipsy on some champagne," the charming Cajun replied, working to subtly change the subject. "Shouldn't you have been at the party? It's usually customary of young girls to go with their chaperones."   
"There was work to be done at the plantation today--I had to supervise the birth and baptism of one of the maids' new baby," Ororo replied, lips set in a tight line. "This doesn't excuse the way you've returned Miss Rogue to us, Mr. LeBeau."   
"I--" Remy began to defend himself, trying to think of a way to tactfully explain to the plantation's manager just how one of her charges had gotten herself into such an unladylike position.   
"And what about her sisters?" Ororo cut in coldly, while Rogue hiccupped and giggled, then held out one of her hands and began spinning it around dizzily in the air. "Where are Miss Jean and Miss Kitty? Where's Mr. Xavier, for that matter?"   
"Miss Jean and Mr. Xavier stayed behind at the party for the impromptu celebration of the former's engagement to a Pietro Maximoff--Miss Kitty is with her sister, in point of fact," Remy answered smoothly, as Ororo frowned and nodded at the realization that the announcement of Jean and Pietro's impending engagement had finally been made. "I personally took Miss Rogue home early after her little incident at the refreshments table."   
"What happened?" Ororo demanded sharply, fearing that Rogue had gotten drunk and made a disgraceful spectacle of herself.   
"She fainted--apparently her corset had been laced too tightly," Remy lied with a straight face, deciding that Ororo didn't need to know Rogue had instead begun singing and laughing at the top of her lungs after sneaking a few too many sips of champagne.   
"That's a lie," Ororo snapped, and if Remy was surprised at how easily she'd seen through his words, he did an excellent job hiding it. "Miss Rogue would never faint, no matter how tightly her corset were laced. She's much too proud to ever swoon, especially in public."   
"I see," Remy murmured quietly, more to himself than to the tall, silver-haired woman in front of him. "You're quite the lady, Miss Ororo. I really wouldn't mind getting to know you better." Ororo shot him a cross scowl; this was about as discourteous as a lady could ever hope to be to a gentleman, and she accompanied her look with a frosty demand of, "If it isn't too much to ask, Mr. LeBeau, I would like an account of what really did happen tonight, without any embellishments or little white lies."   
"If you must." Remy sighed, then glanced down at the girl in his arms, who had somehow quieted down and looked as though she were almost sleeping, and spoke up pointedly, "But if you can wait a few minutes there, Miss Ororo, I think it'd be best that we get Miss Rogue to bed first." Ororo wordlessly walked away, taking a candle from a nearby maid and daintily lifting the front of her rustling skirts as she made her way upstairs, calling back calmly to Remy who was following her, "You can tell me the story on the way." Remy grinned at her words, a move which she couldn't see but somehow managed to sense.   
"Very well, then, Miss Ororo," he conceded pleasantly. 

* * *

Rogue smiled nervously to herself as Remy led her to the dance floor, darting what she hoped was a quick, inconspicuous glance back at Pietro to observe his reaction. Unfortunately for her, he, being Pietro, failed to miss the discreet slight turn of her head, and responded by smirking in his usual maddening way back at her, before raising his glass of champagne toward her as though proposing a toast.   
"He's quite the charmer, isn't he?" an amused French-accented voice spoke up lazily, and Rogue froze at the sound of Remy's voice, cringing that she'd been caught by both men as she turned around as slowly as possible to meet his eyes.   
"Ah...have no idea whatever it is that you're talking about," she lied, none too smoothly, and if her voice hadn't given her away then surely her blush and her eyes had.   
"But of course you do, ma chérie," Remy teased, as they began to dance, and she unwittingly colored with pleasure at the way he'd reverted back to the more intimate term of "chérie." Remy continued, glancing over at Pietro, who was now being approached by Jean, "In fact, I'd say he would make a perfect match for you if he weren't engaged to your sister."   
"You would?" Rogue couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment that he felt she would make a good match with the unattainable Pietro. What about with Remy? _What about him?_ an inner voice remarked dryly. _A handsome and charming gentleman like him would never be interested in a long-term relationship with a wallflower like you--Remy's equally unattainable, in case you've forgotten._ Rogue's shoulders slumped slightly without her noticing, as a tiny sigh escaped from her lips. Remy glanced down at her, asking gently, "Mademoiselle Rogue? Is something the matter?" Rogue snapped up, surprised that he'd noticed, and silently wondered whether all men were this observant or whether it was simply her lousy luck and poor timing.   
"Of course not, why would anything be the matter?" she stammered nervously, trying to remember some of the charming words and tactics her sisters had countlessly used with suitors. "In fact, why would anything be wrong, when Ah'm in the company of so gallant and handsome a gentleman...?" 

And then disaster struck, as Rogue, distracted with trying to wriggle gracefully out of her awkward situation and employ the feminine charms that she'd barely ever practiced, let alone polished, stumbled during the reel and wound up accidentally stepping on Remy's feet. Her already pale face drained of all color, and the fact that Remy looked like he was trying very hard not to burst out laughing at her blunder only worsened matters.   
"Ah...Ah am so, incredibly sorry.." a mortified Rogue cried apologetically, scrambling to back off his feet and tripping over the edges of her full moiré skirts, promptly falling backwards...and right into the waiting arms of Pietro.   
"Well, if it isn't Mr. Maximoff," Remy spoke up in his ever amused voice, being answered with an equally flippant retort of, "And I see, Mr. LeBeau, that you have wasted no time in acquainting yourself with one of the county's young ladies." It was only when she heard the words exchanged between the two gentlemen that Rogue realized exactly what had happened, and she hastened to jump out of Pietro's arms, which, as she remembered the morning when she'd fallen out of her window, were getting to be a bit more familiar than was appropriate.   
"Pietro," she greeted hastily, "Ah, er, didn't realize you were approaching." Her eyes swept over to Jean by his side, wearing a carefully even expression on her flawless features, and she quickly added, "With mah sister, of course." Jean spoke up.   
"It's very nice to see how well you're getting along with Mr. LeBeau, Rogue," she remarked in a friendly voice, then added sweetly with a tinkling laugh, "I hope you won't mind, however, if you dance with Pietro this next reel? He seems to have this silly idea that I'm more interested in Mr. Worthington, and is apparently very intent on making me jealous." Rogue's mouth nearly dropped open, widening into a burgundy 'O' of surprise.   
"Ah--" she started to protest, when at that moment the music started and Pietro grabbed her hand and led her a couple of feet away from Remy and Jean. 

"Come on, Miss Rogue--you're not scared of me after that little incident by the tree a few hours ago, are you?" he teased, earning himself a scowl from Rogue, who, after a few moments of irate silence, decided to refrain from speaking and began automatically moving to the beat of the music. Her eyes were fixed on Remy and Jean, and she wondered whether the Cajun really was being more charming than usual with her sister or whether she was just overreacting. Distracted by Remy dancing with Jean and barely hearing the laughter and carefree chattering around her, Rogue drifted farther away into her own little world of observation and speculation, being abruptly snapped back only when Pietro playfully dipped her. She, in her unawareness of her surroundings, nearly dropped right down onto the floor, and would have smacked her head had the silver-haired youth not swiftly reached forward and lifted her back up in a single discreet, fluid motion.   
"Wouldn't do that pretty little head of yours any good if you fell down, Miss Rogue," he murmured out of the corner of his mouth, and Rogue shot back, "Wouldn't do your pretty little reputation any good either, if your dancing partner commits such an ungraceful blunder and you fail to do anything about it, now would it?"   
"Aren't you being sassy today," came the instant retort. "But you know, Miss Rogue, I--"   
"Should really dance this next waltz with your future fiancée," Rogue quickly finished for him, taking her hands away from his as the dance ended and lifting her rustling skirts to head across the dance floor toward the available Remy, leaving a somewhat surprised-looking Pietro to stare after her retreating figure. 

Remy greeted her with a boyish grin as she reached his side, joking cheerfully, "Glad to see you've come back, chérie--I was afraid I'd lost you to Mr. Maximoff." Rogue smiled back, replying playfully, "And Ah was afraid that Ah'd lost you to mah older sister," as Jean rejoined Pietro several feet away. The opening notes of the waltz started, as Remy lightly took her hand and drew her closer toward him, saying in a low voice, "What, and miss the opportunity to slow dance with you? Never." Rogue blushed happily, beginning to answer as they began to dance, "Ah'm very flattered, Remy--" She stopped abruptly in mid-sentence, a worried frown beginning to knit into her eyebrows when Kitty came into view, with Kurt trailing a couple of paces behind her and surrounded by a multitude of young men who'd tried their luck at courting Rogue earlier during the party--John, Ray, Bobby, and even Jamie--listening intently to something the perky brunette was saying.   
"Oh, no," Rogue muttered under her breath, realizing that Kitty had finally found out who'd set her up with Jamie and was now intent on pay back.   
"Chérie?" Remy lifted an eyebrow at her. "Is the prospect of slow dancing with me really that bad? Because I'm sure Mr. Maximoff will be more than happy to switch partners!"   
"No, it's not that..." Rogue's voice trailed off, and she could only watch in dismay as the first wave of ex-beaus began approaching. 

St. John Allerdyce was the first to make his presence known, as he boldly cut in and literally swept Rogue away from the bemused and slightly amused Remy, calling out cheerfully, "Sorry, sir, but Miss Rogue and myself have to finish a little chat we began earlier this afternoon." Remy's upper lip began to curl up in a little smirk, while Rogue glared in annoyance at John and hissed angrily, "What do you think you're doing?"   
"I'm just saving you from the troubles of having that big bloke step all over your feet," John replied innocently, and Rogue scowled.   
"Actually, Remy happens to be a divine dancer," she began to boast haughtily, and John grinned and taunted, "Really? How would you know, considering the fact that you spent more time dancing with your sister's fiancé than with that Cajun?" Rogue blushed, but before she had to think up a civil retort, Bobby cut in to save her the trouble, whisking her away from the blonde Australian native and chirping brightly, "So, Miss Rogue, it's a shame we lost track of each other over the course of the party, isn't it?" Rogue was busy trying to get a glimpse of Remy, and what she saw didn't exactly please her, as a swarm of waiting girls promptly crowded around the charming Cajun and began leading him off to dance with them.   
"Yes, it is," she replied distractedly, not even knowing what it was she'd just agreed to but figuring it must have been the right thing, for Bobby nodded happily.   
"But don't worry, I don't plan on--" he started to bubble, when he was yanked away by Ray, who stepped in and took the younger boy's place dancing with Rogue.   
"Hn. Sorry about the fan this morning," he grunted awkwardly, speaking more to Rogue's hair than to her face. Rogue craned her neck, trying to get a better view of Remy while replying obligingly, "Yes, it is." Ray's features twisted in confusion, as he demanded, "Does that mean you forgive me?"   
"Yes, it is," Rogue repeated automatically, frowning and deciding that Amara was definitely flirting with Remy. _So, guess he's the first one chivalrous and gallant enough for the little princess,_ she thought sourly to herself, pausing amid her furious train of thought to reply upon cue, "Yes, it is," to whatever it was that Ray had just told her. Ray paused abruptly during the dance, scowling as he realized that Rogue was barely paying any attention to him, and would have let his temper flare and said something cross to her had Jamie not quickly slipped in and pulled Rogue away.   
"Miss Rogue?" the twelve-year-old boy spoke up shyly.   
"Yes it is...Jamie?!" Rogue blinked in surprise, her attention finally wrenched away from Remy and all his adoring fans. "Jamie! What are you doing still up? Aren't you a bit too young to stay up for the ball?"   
"Well, my nurse agreed to let me stay up and watch the first hour of the ball if I didn't cause too much trouble," Jamie explained in a tiny voice.   
"Miss Rogue, did I tell you how divine you look--!" John hollered as he rushed over.   
"Miss Rogue, do you need some water?" Bobby asked eagerly, pushing his way toward her as well.   
"Miss Rogue," Ray began, as he also stalked up to the auburn-haired girl, "I know I haven't exactly been behaving like the Southern gentleman, but your sister said that--" Rogue sighed to herself as the suitors she'd worked so hard on getting rid of now came swarming back. Out of the corner of her eyes, she caught sight of the Acquillas' butler walking around holding a tray of champagne in elegant crystal glasses, and, remembering her father's plantation overseer Logan's numerous remarks about how alcohol was the best way to relax and forget all problems, reached over and snatched a glass, ignoring the curious look of the servant and the disapproving glares from the matrons as she downed all the champagne in one swallow. 

A few feet away, surrounded by pretty girls and being practically pulled in two different directions by Amara and Rahne, Remy watched with an amused twinkle in his eye as Rogue finished her first glass of champagne and ran away from her cluster of beaus to get another. 

* * *

The next morning, Rogue woke up extremely late and feeling as though her head would burst, not knowing that she was suffering the effects of her first hangover. She blinked groggily at the bright sunlight that was filtering into her room from the open windows, then turned in her bed and spoke to the person standing by the heavy forest-green drapes, "What happened last night? It's rather strange that Ah don't remember a thing." Kitty turned from the window, laughing and teasing, "Apparently, you got a bit tipsy on champagne and made quite the scene, dearest sister." Rogue felt her cheeks grow hot, as she suddenly recalled a faint memory of singing the national anthem at the top of her lungs by the refreshment table, interrupting a beautiful waltz to show off her patriotic spirit.   
"Ah...didn't mean to...Oh, stop laughing, it couldn't have been that bad!" she finally defended herself lamely, frowning and turning her head away.   
"Yes it was," Kitty giggled. "In fact, Mr. LeBeau had to leave the party early and carry you home." Rogue nearly shot right through the ceiling when she heard this.   
"He did _what?!"_ she shrieked, a mixture of pleasure that he'd cared and embarrassment that he'd witnessed such an ungraceful and most definitely unladylike scene shooting through her.   
"Miss Ororo certainly wasn't pleased, to say the least--I recall her telling Papa that you seem to be getting too comfortable being carried around in the arms of young gentlemen," Kitty teased, referring both to the previous night and to the morning when her sister had fallen out her bedroom window and into Pietro's arms.   
"Ah...Miss Ororo...it's none of her business anyway..." Rogue's voice trailed off, and she finally ventured, "Where is Remy...er, Mr. LeBeau? Ah'd like to, uh, thank him for his favor last night..."   
"Oh, he left early this morning but should be coming back soon," Kitty replied airily. Her eyes darkened slightly, as she added, "But to be quite honest, I expect him to be cutting his visit short after that letter he received a couple of hours ago."   
"A letter? From whom?" Rogue asked with little curiosity. Kitty shrugged.   
"From a woman named Belladonna," she disclosed.   
"Belladonna? Is that his sister?" Rogue's voice was casual, as she got out of bed and began to get dressed. Kitty moved over to help lace her sister into her corset, answering while her fingers moved deftly over the lacy stays, "Actually, no. I think Mr. LeBeau mentioned that Belladonna is his wife, in fact." 


	7. Chapter Seven

"Actually, no," Kitty revealed while helping lace Rogue into her corset. "I think Mr. LeBeau mentioned that Belladonna is his wife, in fact." Rogue froze when she heard the last part of Kitty's sentence, feeling the blood rush to her ears and her heart begin to pound in shock while Kitty chattered on, oblivious to her sister's stiffening posture.   
"His...wife?" The words were spoken in barely a whisper, so that the always perky brunette wouldn't overhear and begin to suspect anything was going on between Rogue and Remy. Which, the auburn-haired girl reflected miserably, couldn't be farther from the truth now, considering how all this time she'd been falling for a man who turned out to be married. Dazedly, Rogue noticed that her vision was beginning to blur with unshed tears, and suddenly, just as fast as she'd felt herself drop helplessly into an abyss of betrayal and despair, so did she swiftly regain control of herself as the anguish melted away into anger and hurt vanity. Rogue blinked viciously, shaking her head before the tears had a chance to slip down her cheeks while thinking in fury, _So he's married, is he...and all this time he's been shamelessly flirting with and breaking the hearts of all those unsuspecting county girls..._Her head lifted proudly, as she told herself, _Ah feel sorry for them._ Never mind the fact that her heart had been broken the worst. Out loud, Rogue asked Kitty in as steady a voice as she could manage, "So, Remy--Ah mean, Mr. LeBeau--is married. Funny he's never mentioned that to us." Kitty, God bless her heart, eagerly picked up the new subject and ran with it, all the while never once questioning why Rogue's voice seemed to crack while saying those words--that Remy LeBeau was married.   
"Yes, it _is_ quite strange, isn't it?" the pretty brunette mused, done with her task and stepping back so that Rogue could put on her petticoats and pick out a dress to wear. "In fact, now that I think about it, I don't believe Mr. LeBeau's ever mentioned his wife at all. Perhaps to Papa, for he didn't seem terribly shocked by the letter, but I could see from Miss Ororo's expression that _she'd_ never learned of this Belladonna person--I guess I should call her Mrs. LeBeau, shouldn't I?--until now, and it was fairly obvious that she was quite displeased by Mr. LeBeau's hiding of this fact from her." Rogue's response was silence, as she moved around mutely with her cream-colored petticoats sashaying around her and a prim, deep pine dress that made her look at least ten years older clutched in her hands. Kitty's eyes widened when she caught sight of her sister's choice of clothing, remarking with wide eyes, "Rogue, please tell me you aren't thinking of actually wearing that old-fashioned monstrosity of a dress today! Why, it looks like something worn at least fifty years ago--I doubt even Mrs. Summers would wear that, and you know she's the most conservative of the county matrons!" Rogue's shoulders slumped, and she fell down backwards onto her bed.   
"Ah...Ah don't know..." Her voice trailed off, as an idea came to her. Turning to her younger sister with the most pitiful look her pride would let her muster, she admitted, "Ah feel awful right now, Kitty--it must be from the, er, champagne at the ball last night. Could you please go downstairs and tell Miss Ororo that Ah'll be skipping breakfast today?" Kitty's curious expression melted into one of sisterly concern, and she reassured her while refraining from further teasing about last night's stirring rendition of the national anthem, "Of course, Rogue...you want me to send one of the maids with a tray when you're feeling better?" Rogue grimaced.   
"Not really," she admitted. "Ah'm not feeling hungry at all; in fact, all Ah want to do is just lie down for a while." Kitty shrugged.   
"Suit yourself," she said, gathering up her skirts and stepping daintily out of the room. "Hope you'll feel better by noon."   
"Me too," Rogue muttered in a low voice, peeking out from one eye to make sure of when her sister had descended down the stairs and into the breakfast room. 

When she was satisfied that nobody was around to witness what she was about to do, Rogue quickly leapt off her bed and ripped her flouncing petticoats from around her waist, slipping her white nightgown back over her corset as it was the only item of clothing she could wear that wouldn't make the telltale rustling sounds whenever she moved and thus alert her family of her presence. She knew there was no way she could go downstairs now and hear her family discuss Remy and his wife Belladonna--her facial expressions and body language would more than give her true feelings away--but she also couldn't stand the thought of not knowing anything besides the simple fact that Remy was married. Rogue's features set themselves into a hard line as she began stealthily creeping down the stairs and toward the breakfast room, wryly reminding herself, _And there's certainly no way Ah can ask Remy about his wife, either, so there's really no other option but to eavesdrop._

Rogue carefully inched her way closer toward the breakfast room, already hearing Kitty's voice floating over the air as the perky young girl gave her excuse for her second oldest sister's absence from the table.   
"Well, I suppose she'll come down when she's ready to face us," she heard Jean's voice speak up neutrally, and couldn't help but scowl that her family thought she was merely too embarrassed about the previous night to show up. _Well, let them think that, for all Ah care, _she told herself fiercely, then nearly shrieked out loud when, too preoccupied with darting glances behind her to make sure nobody could sneak up on her, she accidentally wound up crashing right into someone in front of her. The startled maid Rogue had bumped into nearly dropped her tray at the impact, hastily turning around to chastise whom she'd assumed was a careless little servant boy, but the angry expression quickly melted from her features when she recognized the girl who'd nearly catapulted her right into the wall.   
"Oh, Miss Rogue--!" she started to exclaim, but Rogue quickly shushed her by clapping one hand against her mouth and hissing, "Not now, Sarah. Listen, Ah'm sorry, Ah'll explain later, but for now, don't tell anyone about this, all right?" Sarah nodded mutely, her eyes now wide open with surprise and curiosity, and when Rogue was sure the young maid wouldn't start hollering at Miss Ororo to come quick and help the young mistress get dressed or for another one of the maids to get on over with a tray ready, she took her hand away and resumed tiptoeing toward the breakfast room. She turned around once to raise her index finger to her lips, and Sarah nodded understandingly even though she had no idea what was going on, before obediently scurrying off as Rogue finally reached the breakfast room and pressed herself against the wall. 

She could hear Kitty speaking, but much to her disappointment, the subject was Jean's upcoming wedding to Pietro rather than anything concerning a certain Cajun.   
"I still can't believe it happened--I mean, that night at the ball when you and Pietro announced your engagement, it was surreal," the pretty brunette chattered in happy excitement.   
"Yes. I suppose this whole ordeal is like a dream," came the calm, somewhat subdued response from the bride-to-be. Kitty failed to notice her sister's less-than-thrilled response, going on, "Although, I _am_ a bit surprised that this wedding's going to happen so soon; I mean, usually people wait until they're engaged for at least a year before actually getting married..." Rogue scowled, wondering for how long her family was going to natter on about Jean and Pietro's wedding. What about the other, more intriguing wedding, the one that had already occurred...a year...two years, maybe...how long ago, really? Rogue stopped and bit down on her lower lip in concentration, wondering just how long Remy had been married to this Belladonna. Were they newlyweds, or had they been already married for a long time, and Remy had begun to get bored, which was why he had come down to Mississippi to amuse himself with the pretty, naïve young girls...? Rogue was snapped out of her train of furious thought and speculation when Miss Ororo finally brought up the subject that she was so desperate to learn more about.   
"Speaking of marriages, it is quite interesting that Mr. LeBeau hasn't mentioned his own until this morning, when he rushed off to the train station to bring his wife here to meet the family," the elegant woman spoke up delicately, and the others at the table could practically hear the disapproval in her carefully chosen words. Rogue, however, was more concerned with the actual words themselves than the tone in which they were spoken, while Xavier began to say, "Yes, I believe it was an arrangement ever since they were both children..." Tuning out the rest of her father's words, the auburn-haired girl realized in a frenzy, _She's coming here? Belladonna's coming to this house?!_ Her first impulse was to storm into the room and command angrily, "Ah won't have it! Ah won't have that woman take even one step on the plantation, let alone this house!" Her second, slightly more logical thought after she'd calmed down, was to wonder how Belladonna would react to being in this house. Did she suspect anything about how Remy had flirted and danced with Rogue? And what about Remy, how would he face the young girl whose heart he had so effortlessly broken? For some strange reason, Rogue's mind suddenly wandered back up to her room, and to the prim, nearly prudish green dress lying across her bed that she'd planned to wear that day. It would certainly show Remy that she didn't care whether he was married or not, that she didn't need to impress him with splendid dresses or expensive jewelry and perfumes. But on the other hand, what if Belladonna noticed and got rather catty about it? Rogue scowled, muttering to herself, "Ah certainly won't allow mahself to be belittled by that woman!" Hiking up her flowing nightgown, she stomped back up the stairs, her mind firmly made up that she would show Remy exactly what he'd lost by getting married, and that she would show Belladonna that just because she'd succeeded in trapping Remy into marriage didn't mean she was any better than her. 

Rogue stalked purposefully into her room and threw open the double doors of her closet, wondering which dress would look most dazzling on her. She adored the green moiré one, but after all, she _had_ worn it just last night...the forest-green organdie showed off the dramatic color her eyes and made them sparkle like emeralds, but she was sure Remy had already seen it during his visit...and the seafoam-colored watered silk dress was lovely, but would better suit Kitty's more delicate profile and slender figure than her own stronger, more striking features. The frothy pale jade crinoline with its billowing hoop skirts was just plain childish--it looked better suited for a young girl's birthday party, with its puffed sleeves and yards of trimmings and loops of excess material. Rogue threw down the last dress onto the floor, resisting the urge to stomp on it. Her eyebrows slanted together in a thoughtful frown, as realization began to seep in that she'd only worn green when around Remy. Now that she thought about it, why _did_ she wear green so often? _Because it brings out the color of your eyes and enhances the dramatic effect of your dark red hair,_ somebody had once told her, which was why she barely had any fashionable dresses that weren't of that color.   
"Well then," she told herself out loud, "if Ah don't have a dress that isn't green, Ah guess Ah'll just have to borrow one from mah sisters." 

* * *

The unmistakable sounds of carriage wheels and horses' hooves rolling across a road floated across the Xavier plantation and toward its elegantly-designed house, and inside Kitty squealed happily, "They're here! That must be Mr. LeBeau and Belladonna--er, Mrs. LeBeau!" In a lower voice, she guiltily reproved herself, "Ugh, I must remember to call her by that title--it's just so hard, though, when Mr. LeBeau didn't whenever he had to refer to her this morning!" _Which probably means he's very close with his wife,_ Rogue thought sullenly from her seat in a satin chair. Since Kitty's room had been the closest, she'd settled for borrowing one of her younger sister's dresses, a lovely cerulean-colored watered silk gown that had come back to haunt her with its tiny seventeen-inch waistline. Rogue had called in Miss Ororo to lace her corset even tighter, had dodged the other woman's questions, and had fought for each breath and each step she could take in that suffocatingly tight whalebone garment, repeatedly telling herself that she should just be thankful the dress had a slightly larger waistline than Kitty's usual sixteen-and-a-half inches. Meanwhile, the family butler had hastily thrown on his black jacket over his starched white dress shirt as he tripped over to the door, before regaining his composure as he opened it and dipped down in a regal bow to greet the couple standing under the door frame. 

Remy LeBeau, looking no different from when he'd carried Rogue home in his arms the previous night, grinned and charmingly tipped his hat at all the women gathered in the atrium to greet him, and this could have been a flashback to the first time when he'd stepped through those doors...except that this time, there was a woman by his side. She was obviously a couple of years older than Rogue, probably the same age as Remy, tall with long blonde hair smoothly netted underneath her bonnet and beautiful in the way that Southern women were, and when she spoke, as she did now to greet the family, she had the same Cajun accent that Remy did.   
"It's quite an honor to finally meet the gentleman and his lovely daughters that my husband has been speaking so highly of," Belladonna said with perfect matronly charm, and Rogue barely avoided cringing at the way she'd referred to Remy--as "my husband." It was almost as if the woman was putting her stamp on Remy, was reminding everyone that she possessed him. Suddenly, Rogue wasn't feeling quite as courageous as she did when she'd dressed her best and vowed she'd show Remy and his wife that her heart and her pride weren't hurt at all, and now she knew that she wasn't ready to be in the same room as the woman that was Remy's wife and watch her charm her family. Rogue abruptly stood up, gathering her rustling skirts around her and discreetly lowering her head to avoid making eye contact with anyone.   
"Ah...Ah have to go," she stammered weakly, unable to think up any excuse at the moment. "Mah headache's returned...Ah must still not be quite recovered yet from last night..." She didn't bother to try to finish her sentence, instead quickly tripping out on delicate chamois slippers and letting a fragrant breeze of honeysuckle announce her exit from the room. 

Rogue headed out of her house, ignoring the cries and questions that sprang up upon her departure, and when she spotted a waiting horse that had yet to be unsaddled from Kitty's daily morning rides, she hopped gratefully atop the animal and clicked her tongue at it to go off. As the obedient little strawberry mare began to stroll away toward the nearby forest, Rogue unwittingly breathed a sigh of relief, then froze as a dismayingly familiar male voice spoke up when she was barely ten yards from the house, "Chérie? I had been hoping that you would grace us with your presence for a while longer." Rogue reluctantly held in the reins to signal her horse to stop, and when it did she turned around to say in a bitingly sarcastic voice, "Yes, well, Ah'm afraid Ah never did learn how to behave around matrons, _cherié."_ By then, Remy had caught up, effortlessly jogging the few feet that separated them and holding on to her horse's rein as he guessed while they resumed their march away from the house, "Belladonna, huh?" Rogue scowled, snapping in a clipped tone, "Yes, thank you very much for not telling me you had a wife when we were dancing last night! And Ah know Ah'm being too bold with mah speech, but Ah think Ah deserve an explanation." Remy sighed, absently running a hand through his hair, and Rogue tried not to think how handsome he looked as he tried to piece words together.   
"Belle and I...we were promised to each other since before we were born--to settle an ancient grudge and finally bring our families together," he explained.   
"Well, aren't you the dashing Romeo," Rogue muttered sarcastically, causing Remy to grin and remark good-naturedly, "Thanks, chérie, you're the first one to mention that." The little smile slipped off, and Remy became serious again as he continued, "There's not exactly any love lost between both our families--one of my ancestors stole a valuable heirloom from Belle's family, and their patriarch had him executed. Our two families have been feuding ever since."   
"Ah see, so you married Belladonna all as part of some noble sacrifice to bring peace between your feuding families; why, God bless your heart, Mr. LeBeau, Ah am so touched Ah fear Ah might start crying," Rogue bit out, her words laced with a poison that nearly made Remy cringe.   
"It's not like that at all," he protested vehemently, his hands leaving the reins to grasp Rogue's arm and make her look him in the eye. "I'll admit that's what I wanted to do, but once my family made me go through with the wedding to Belladonna, I realized I couldn't stand living the rest of my life with her...so I took off. I ran away, and I wrote to your father--"   
"Asking for a place to temporarily hide out from your wife and her family, am Ah right?" Rogue finished for him, her voice dripping with heavy scorn and contempt.   
"Quite frankly, yes--I doubt that for those first several days of my absence, my estranged wife wished for anything less than my miserable death...please understand, I _had_ to get away from our marriage," Remy spoke bluntly. He then clasped her hands in his, his red-tinted black eyes meeting her own olive-green ones in an earnest gaze as he added sincerely, "What I never expected was to fall in love with a girl whom I should have married all along."   
"Remy, Ah--" Rogue's eyes began to mist, before she swallowed back her tears and abruptly withdrew her hands from his. "Ah don't need this from you! Not if you have a wife! Ah can't believe you would commit such a perfidy against me, especially when Ah mistook you for nothing less than a gentleman!" Hurt flashed across Remy's face, and he leaned back as though stunned before quickly defending himself, "I never meant to deliberately breach your faith! What could I do; I didn't expect to fall for someone during my visit, and when I found out that I was, what could I do when Belladonna was coming to take me back to New Orleans?" Rogue glared steadily at him.   
"Maybe," she gritted out harshly, "you should have packed up and left and gotten out of mah life! Now, if you please, Mr. LeBeau, let go of mah horse so Ah can return to my home, Ah don't believe Ah want to speak any more to you." Remy made no motion of dropping the reins, continuing only to stare up frozenly at her, as though disbelieving the words she'd just said. Rogue made an impatient noise in her throat, before angrily dismounting and declaring, "Fine, if you won't let go, then Ah'll just have to walk home. Ah wish you and your estranged wife only wedded bliss, Mr. LeBeau." Those words seemed to snap Remy out of his daze, as he quickly reached out and took her arm, drawing her toward him before she could run away.   
"You can't just give up and abandon me like this now that Belle's come to Mississippi," he told her. "I'm beginning to doubt whether you cared about me as much as I still do about you if you're going to give up and walk away so easily." Rogue's angry posture slackened, and she allowed herself to be held comfortingly in Remy's arms as she finally let the tears she'd been holding in so stubbornly since morning to fall down her cheeks.   
"You don't understand," she sobbed emotionally. "Ah _do_ care about you--more than anything in the world. But after your perfidy, Ah'm afraid Ah just don't know if Ah can trust you again...and even if Ah do, it still doesn't change the fact that you're married. So why should Ah forgive you, and why should you throw your life and your marriage away over me?"   
"Because," Remy said quietly, "you're my dream come true, and I'll do anything to prevent this dream from vanishing with the coming of morning." And with that, he tilted her chin toward him and kissed her. 

Rogue was too shocked at first to react, and when the initial surprise wore off she couldn't do anything but give herself up to the feeling and return the kiss.   
"We can get married and I'll never have to let you go," Remy was saying between kisses. "I'll get a divorce from Belladonna..." Those words brought Rogue crashing back to reality, and she abruptly drew back and slapped Remy with all the strength she had in her right arm.   
"You dirty skunk, get away from me!" she cried angrily, backing away from Remy while remembering Miss Ororo's emphasis on never letting a boy kiss her unless he was her husband. "And as for your estranged wife, go ahead and have a happy life with her! Be the noble Romeo and stop the feuding between your families, just never bother me again!" Remy's face twisted up in confusion at her harsh words, as one hand instinctively drew up to the red mark that was slowly beginning to appear on his cheek.   
"But I can get a divorce from Belladonna, and then we can get married," he repeated, causing Rogue's features to contort into an ugly mask of scorn and hurt.   
"Don't you know anything about honor?" she snapped contemptuously at him. "My entire family are devout Roman Catholics. We would never even think of marrying men who have been divorced in their lives!" She turned around and tried to storm off, but the raging emotions of anger and hurt and a longing to be in Remy's arms despite the arsenal of venomous words she'd just fired off at him, coupled with her corset that was laced far too tightly, finally took their toll on her body, and for the first time in her life, Rogue fainted, a mere ten steps away from the startled Remy. 


	8. Chapter Eight

Dr. Hank McCoy glanced down at his patient, who'd finally managed to fall asleep, her chest rising evenly with each breath, then tried to give a reassuring smile to the worried family that had gathered around the bed.   
"Don't worry, she's getting some well-deserved rest at last, and should be just fine within a couple of days...physically, at least." The last part of his sentence was said in a low, concerned voice, and Miss Ororo picked up on that immediately and asked, "What do you mean, physically? A fainting spell shouldn't prove to be _that_ distressing, should it?" She briefly closed her eyes as she remembered the frenzied panic that had surrounded the house when Remy had brought Rogue back after she'd run off during the family's welcoming of Belladonna. Ororo had never trusted the tall, darkly handsome Cajun, and she liked him even less after he'd returned Rogue in the same condition he had just the previous night--cradled in his arms as though she were his bride to be carried over the threshold. Only this time the situation was more grave, and Ororo needed take only one look into the panicked eyes of the usually charmingly collected Mr. LeBeau to know that something was wrong before being told that Rogue had fainted.   
"Yes, it _is_ pretty unusual to call in a doctor when a young lady has a swooning spell," Dr. McCoy's gentle, steady voice broke into Ororo's thoughts. "However, in this case, I'm glad you did."   
"What do you mean?" Kitty spoke up worriedly, a frown darkening her usually sunny face as she alternated between looking at the family doctor to her sister resting on the bed.   
"I can't quite pinpoint her problem just yet," Dr. McCoy admitted as he began packing up his kit. "I can stand here and give you every fancy diagnosis in the book, but to be quite honest, it seems as if Miss Rogue has been carrying around quite an emotional burden that has finally taken its toll on her body and caused it to temporarily shut down from exhaustion."   
"What does that mean?" Kitty's lips began to quiver, and she turned worried blue eyes to Miss Ororo, seeking a more reassuring diagnosis. Ororo reached out and comfortingly stroked the young girl's hair, saying soothingly with a calm that she herself didn't even feel, "It simply means that your sister will need a little more time than usual to rest and recover, that's all." And she shot a meaningful look at Dr. McCoy, as if to tell him to keep any more upsetting diagnoses from Kitty. 

Outside Rogue's room, Jean paused from her trip to fetch some tea for the good doctor, turning instead to the solitary figure sitting in the hallway with his head lowered defeatedly over his knees and a still burning cigar dangling from his fingers. She cleared her throat quietly to announce her presence, before dropping down to match his height in his seated position and said in a soft, gentle voice, "You know, Mr. LeBeau, that the entire family is indebted to you for bringing Rogue back safely. Even Miss Ororo is immensely grateful, and especially Papa and Kitty and myself." Her attempt at cheering him up brought only a humorless laugh from Remy, who failed to even raise his head in a half-hearted attempt to greet her.   
"Mr. LeBeau, please don't blame yourself if you think you're the reason that my sister fainted," Jean tried again, this time stirring a response in the Cajun as he finally lifted his head but didn't straighten up from his slouched position. _How kind yet naïve she is, _Remy thought silently to himself as he gazed at the concerned frown that had settled into her flawless features. _She doesn't know that I'm the exact reason why Miss Rogue's in such a state!_ Out loud he spoke, "But I _do_ blame myself, Miss Jean, and there's no need to treat me with this kindness. I..." His voice trailed off there, and he wondered just how he could explain to such a dignified young lady the outrageous proposal that he'd dared bring up to her sister. Jean, meanwhile, was looking at him with an understanding expression in her eyes.   
"You're fond of her, aren't you?" she guessed quietly, and Remy felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. She knew! But how...?   
"I...have taken quite a liking to your sister," he finally admitted, his shoulders slumping in defeat. What was the point in lying? Jean, fortunately, was nodding in agreement rather than glaring at him as though he were some sort of vile scoundrel.   
"I'm glad you have managed to see through my sister's facade of coldness and sarcasm to realize just how wonderful a person she is," the lovely redhead smiled, earning a lifeless shrug from Remy, who was too distressed to even feel any relief that Jean had misinterpreted his love for Rogue as mere friendly affection, and not something deeper. Yes, Rogue _was_ wonderful. She was beautiful and she was intelligent, but she wasn't aware of that, having lived in the shadows of a dazzling older sister and slowly being outshone by a promising younger sister, and it only made him all the more affectionate and protective of her. She was like a fragile rose, to be cherished and nurtured, for she suffered from a severe lack of any self-esteem due to having lived for fifteen years believing she was the least desirable of Xavier's otherwise gorgeous and charming daughters. But despite her low self-confidence, Rogue possessed an inner strength and sauciness that in fact made her the most desirable of all the other demure, carefully timid county belles. Remy had seen flashes of her strong yet resourcefully mischievous side when she'd lied about having promised all her dances to him in an effort to get rid of her unwanted beaus, and even when she'd gotten tipsy on champagne and had had the humor and boldness to stride up in front of everybody and sing the national anthem at the top of her lungs. 

Remy abruptly snapped himself out of his thoughts, asking hoarsely, "Belle...where's Belladonna?" as if to remind himself that he was, indeed, married. The quickest flash of surprise darted across Jean's eyes at his hasty change of subject, before she smoothly replied while covering up what her true feelings might be, "She departed shortly after you'd left to search for my sister, in fact, and mentioned something about still needing to unpack her suitcases. She told me to remind you that she'll be staying at the Congressional Hotel in the city, in case you'd forgotten." If Jean thought that this was an unusual rooming arrangement for a married couple--which she probably did--she was too polite to ask any questions.   
"I...er...thank you." After having initially used his wife as a forceful reminder that Rogue was definitely out of his reach, Remy no longer knew what to do or say. He certainly didn't want to face Belladonna--at least not at the moment--especially considering how he would be unable to cover up his true emotions with his mind in its present state of turmoil.   
"Are you going to the hotel to be with her, Mr. LeBeau?" Jean asked with mild curiosity, then added quickly, "You don't have to feel obliged to stay here, I can assure you that my sister will be all right."   
"I..." Remy struggled for something to say, his mind running a mile a minute as it thought up and then discarded a thousand reasons to linger and remain at the house, where he might catch if only a glimpse of Rogue. 

Finally, after realizing his inability to conjure up any reasonable excuses, he gave up and muttered, "I suppose I should return to my wife." Jean stood up, smoothing over her full skirts and absently placing a tendril of strawberry-red hair behind her ear as she accompanied him to the door.   
"I can still expect you and Mrs. LeBeau at the wedding in three months, can't I?" she asked amiably as the Cajun shrugged on his coat and reached for his hat. "Or do you plan on returning to New Orleans immediately?" Remy wore a distracted frown as he paused briefly before tucking his hat over his dark brown hair.   
"No, and even if we were, there's no chance I'd be absent during your wedding, Miss Jean--after all, it'll be my duty to play the role of protective older brother and threaten the lucky groom that he better not break your heart, or I'd make sure to do certain things that really shouldn't be mentioned in the presence of a lady," Remy quipped, a spark of his old charm beginning to return while inwardly he made a silent note that he'd have to later battle Belladonna at the hotel to stay in Mississippi for three more months. A thought suddenly occurred to him while Jean giggled at his joke, and he asked in a carefully even voice, "But three months, Miss Jean, is quite a short period of time for an engagement...please forgive me if I'm intruding, but--"   
"Nonsense; I have no intention of keeping petty little secrets against a friend of my father's," Jean hastened to reassure him, then explained about the curiously short engagement, "You see, Pietro's father has arranged for him to attend an university in Germany starting this autumn, and neither of our families wanted to wait four years for the actual marriage, so..."   
"I understand," Remy broke in. He paused at the doorway, taking off his hat which he'd only placed on five minutes earlier and offering a short bow to the beautiful redhead. "Well, I hope to see you around, Miss Jean...and, ah, please give my regards to Miss Rogue when she wakes up."   
"I'll let you know of her recovery as soon as she's better," Jean offered sweetly, then closed the door after exchanging the appropriate good-byes. Remy stood at the doorsteps, staring intently at the heavy piece of oak between him and the Xavier house, almost as if he could see through the finely polished wood and search out a glimpse of the fitfully sleeping Rogue. Finally, he returned his hat to his head and began to walk slowly away from the building. 

* * *

**Two Weeks Later...**

"Can you believe Jean'll be getting married in less than three months? It's so exciting..."   
"I know, although that _was_ a rather dubious choice she made when she picked her maid--or rather, maids--of honor..."   
"Well, you can't expect someone as loyal as her to pick anyone but those two sisters of hers, now can you?"   
"I suppose, and I have no problem with Kitty being one of them, although in a sense I pity Jean for having a sister as antisocial as Rogue being her other maid of honor..."   
"Aw, don't be such a jealous cat..."   
"But you have to admit that Rogue's personality _has_ taken a turn for the worse ever since she fainted and had her entire house in chaos, calling in the family doctor when some simple smelling salts would have waken her up..."   
"Well, all I can say is that Jean's the first one of us to get married--not that I'm terribly surprised by that; with all those suitors, she was bound to have finally picked one sooner or later..."   
"Personally, I don't see why she's rushing into marriage so soon--she's only sixteen, and I know that if I were in her position, I wouldn't want to give up the lifestyle of a Southern belle so easily just to don boring old matron's dresses and work all day managing a plantation..."   
"Tabby, if it were up to you, you'd still be dancing and wearing pretty dresses when you're thirty!"   
"Except that nobody then will want to dance with a spinster who should already be a matriarch, when there are sixteen-year-old belles around!"   
"Speaking of matriarchs, have you girls heard that Mr. LeBeau's wife has left for New Orleans...without Mr. LeBeau?"   
"No! What happened?"   
"I don't know anything but rumors, Rahne, and all I've heard is that she departed after a supposedly terrible argument at their hotel."   
_ "I_ heard they've never gotten along in the first place, that they've been estranged ever since their wedding day, and now Mr. LeBeau's finally seeking to do the unthinkable!"   
"He's going to ask for a divorce? Amara, you're terrible for spreading rumors like that!"   
"Rahne, this isn't just petty gossip; I overheard my mother telling my father about it last night when they were discussing New Orleans's degenerating morals, and Mother brought up Mr. LeBeau and the fact that he might be looking for a divorce from his wife as an example." 

"Remy's divorcing that Belladonna?!"   
A sudden silence fell over the massive bedroom as the girls, in their corsets and petticoats, milled about to exchange gossip while their maids helped them dress for the formal evening ball that was to take place after the morning's festivities. Rogue stood in the doorway, having returned before her two sisters had, and now she swept each and every girl in a long, even gaze as she repeated through clenched teeth, "Ah'll ask this again. Remy's been trying to divorce Belladonna?" Rahne was the first one to speak.   
"Of course not," she tittered nervously, trying to cover up her embarrassment and apprehension with laughter while discreetly elbowing Amara to stay silent. "We'd never spread rumors that could damage the reputation of a guest of your father's! Amara was just kidding around, that's all...weren't you Amara?"   
"A true lady never "kids around," as you've so eloquently put it--" Amara began to say haughtily, when Tabitha quickly cut her off.   
"Why Rogue, your new dress looks just dazzling--I'll bet Bobby and Ray will definitely start courting you even more eagerly after tonight, huh?" she tried to tactfully change the subject. Rogue glanced down at her frothily pale jade organdie with its feathery, billowing skirts, arching an eyebrow at Tabitha as if to remind her of its charmingly simple design, before suddenly turning around and stalking off without another word. 

As soon as Rogue had left, the room exploded with conversation again, as all the girls tried to cram in as much gossip about her as they could before her sisters arrived.   
"Ugh, that was certainly awkward!" Tabitha exclaimed as she collapsed backwards onto a bed, at the same time that Amara sniffed distastefully, "How unladylike of Rogue to just barge in here like that and start questioning us about Mr. LeBeau's marital affairs as though it were her personal business!" Rahne, meanwhile, kept staring curiously at the spot where Rogue had stood, even as the other girls around her immediately started quieting down as the sound of Jean and Kitty's light footsteps gave away their impending arrival.   
"I wonder if she's planning on confronting Mr. LeBeau about this whole nasty divorce business," she wondered quietly to herself. 

Rogue was...and she wasn't. As she wove determinedly across the halls of the mansion standing proudly in the middle of the Maximoff plantation, her mind running a mile a minute, she wondered silently whether she should laugh with joy that Remy might finally be free of Belladonna, or burst into tears that the Cajun was now even less attainable than before, seeing how if he _did_ go through with a divorce from the blonde, Rogue's devoutly Catholic family would much rather have her become an old maid than marry such a man. What was worse, if a divorce did happen, they would probably expect her, as an unmarried young girl, to never associate with such a man again, no matter how close his ties were with her family.   
"Oh, Ah hate these rules and customs of the antiquated South!" she growled in frustration to herself, stopping and slamming one fist against a wall before quickly withdrawing it at the sudden flash of pain that flared across her knuckles in protest of her brash action.   
"Our customs may seem antiquated to you, Miss Rogue," a dismayingly familiar male voice spoke up in amusement, "but they have also accomplished in producing lovely ladies like your two sisters. Perhaps with some time, these same "antiquated Southern customs" might be able to tame your sassy temper as well...although if my dear twin sister is any indication of what you might become in two years, then I'd rather not think--" Rogue turned around angrily before he had a chance to finish his smug sentence.   
"Pietro, Ah don't have time for your little games," she exploded hotly. "Why can't you just leave me alone!" Pietro leaned back, pretending to be hurt.   
"Now, now, Miss Rogue, is that any way to talk to your brother-in-law?" he chided with a little smirk, causing Rogue to scowl in response.   
"You ain't going to be mah brother-in-law for another three months," she reminded him in a chilly tone of voice, beginning to push past him, "so in the meantime, Ah suggest you get out of mah way so Ah can--"   
"Flirt with the debonair Mr. LeBeau, I suppose, now that his wife is rumored to soon be out of the picture," Pietro finished smoothly, coolly for her. Rogue froze in her tracks, feeling the blood drain from her face in shock and silently cursing Pietro for always knowing the exact words to say that would make her halt like this.   
"How...how did you know?" she whispered in a trembling voice, then corrected herself with a small blush, "About the unconfirmed rumors that they've separated, Ah mean." Pietro lazily rolled his eyes in her direction, drawling in an exaggerated Southern accent to match her own prominent one, "Mah dear, you ain't the only one with sources like this; Ah am quite aware of this county and its more prominent citizens." Rogue scowled as the maddeningly taunting words rolled off his lips.   
"Ah don't talk like that, you ridiculous clown of a man," she snapped. "And Ah'm also not planning on standing around to let you further insult mahself or Remy like this." And she rustled her skirts and stomped off, purposely snapping her hair back as she elbowed past him to let it hit him squarely in the cheek. 


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summer of 1853**

The Maximoff mansion where preparations were to be made going into the wedding was in a state of chaos, with girls running around calling for their maids and their dresses, servants hurriedly tripping in and out of the kitchen carrying extravagant dishes of the fried chicken, luscious ham, and dumplings that were to be served at the banquet after the wedding, carriages and horses crowding the generous plantation grounds with the arrival of guests, some from out of state, and musicians noisily tuning their instruments. Amidst all the frenzied preparations for the elaborate ceremony that was to take place later that evening, Rogue managed to slip in nearly unnoticed on dainty, ribbon-laced pink slippers, her hair carefully swept up into a fancy chignon that had taken over an hour to accomplish. The filmy pink silk dress that she'd been wrestled into as part of her co-maid of honor attire had taken even longer, with Miss Ororo switching from reasoning, to admonishing, to nagging, to pleading, to manipulating in an effort to wrangle Rogue into her dress.   
"Ah look like a nightmare in pink with mah red hair!" the fifteen-year-old girl had protested, even as her corset had been laced and the "pink nightmare" had been carefully lowered over her petticoats. Now, Rogue glanced around stealthily, praying that nobody would see her until she could come up with a way to lessen the clashing effect of pink on dark red once she'd snuck into the room where the bride-to-be was being fussed over with some last minute adjustments to her dress and hair. Quietly, toning down her own bolder strides to mimic the light, gliding steps of her sisters, Rogue crept up the stairs, darting across the hallways and occasionally even hiding behind ornately-designed jardinières in an effort to make sure she wouldn't be seen by Amara or Tabitha. Finally, she spotted the door that she was sure led to Jean's dressing room, and quickened her steps until she reached the ornately carved French doors and pulled them open...and nearly fainted for the second time in her life. 

The figure framed behind the doorway had been just about to leave, and now he gazed at her with the familiar amused twinkle in his red-tinted eyes, as his upper lip curled up in a friendly grin and he greeted in that lazy, drawling Cajun accent, "Ah, bonjour ma chérie ." As soon as Rogue had recovered from her surprise, she quickly tried to regain her composure while asking with as much ladylike dignity as possible, "Why, Mr. LeBeau, Ah hardly expected to see you here again after you went philandering off to New Orleans so soon after Ah'd recovered." Remy shot a lazy grin in her direction, before casually explaining while shrugging his broad shoulders, "Yes, well, I made a promise to Miss Jean that I would attend her wedding no matter what--"   
"And Ah'm very glad that you seem to be enough of a gentleman to have at least been telling the truth about _that_ promise and kept it," Rogue broke in acidly, unable to forget the fresh pain that seeing Remy again had brought back. Remy's eyes darkened slightly, and the easygoing smile on his face faded a notch as he thought up a counter to her biting comments.   
"Well, my wife and I had to settle some, er, rather personal business back home," he finally explained in a somewhat vague tone of voice, running a hand through his longish dark brown hair. The old confidence returned, as he brought a cigar up to the corner of his mouth and added, "But as you can see, now that our problem has been taken care of, I've returned to keep my promise to Miss Jean like I'd told her I would."   
"That's just so lovely of you," Rogue shot back, her voice dripping with blatant sarcasm, then asked cruelly while flitting her eyelashes in his direction, "So where _is_ your wife then, Remy--oh, pardon me, Mr. LeBeau?" The cocky smile didn't slip from his face, as he fired back swiftly, "She's in New Orleans, Miss Rogue, thank you for being considerate enough to ask about her." Rogue suddenly felt that if they spent one more second talking about his wife, her head would burst and she would scream, so she quickly took a step backwards, sarcasm forgotten, and began to mumble, "Ah've got to go now, Ah really have to talk with mah sister..." 

Remy abruptly reached forward and grasped her hand, holding her back and causing her to turn around and look directly into his eyes. Rogue felt dizzy at their nearness, but she forced herself to swallow her old feelings and return his gaze with a carefully blank stare, ordering evenly, "Please, Remy, let go of mah hand. Ah really do have to speak with Jean."   
"I will let go," Remy replied in an equally steady voice, "but only after I've made one point clear to you." Rogue was afraid to meet his unveiled eyes now, and she kept her gaze focused steadfastly on the space between them as she asked in a slightly quavering voice, "What's that?"   
"You've probably heard rumors about my and Belladonna's separation," Remy began calmly, and Rogue blushed as she remembered all the crazy gossip that had blazed across the county like wildfire following his departure a few days after her recovery.   
"Ah...might have heard something like that," she finally conceded in what she hoped was a smooth voice. Remy looked amused by her modesty, and made sure she knew about it when he told her, "There's no need to lie for my sake, Miss Rogue, especially because I'll respect your wishes and keep away from this county after Miss Jean's wedding." Rogue's head snapped up in shock, unwittingly locking eyes with the Cajun she'd sworn she'd hate forever after his treachery.   
"You'll leave me?" _But you can't!_ her mind screamed, a flash of desperation quickly skirting across her eyes as she remembered those miserable two months during which Remy had been away at New Orleans, before she forced herself to calm down.   
"After all, you made your point quite clear to me that spring day when Belladonna arrived," Remy was saying, his voice breaking into her thoughts and making her look up at him in confusion. "Your entire family is devoutly Roman Catholic, and would never approve of, let alone allow you, to marry a man who's been divorced in his life, so there's really no reason why I should keep coming back and serving as some nasty little reminder of that spring afternoon proposal."   
"You won't?" Rogue's voice came out in a strangled little whisper before she even realized it. Remy's reply was unusually calm, casually amused even.   
"I promise I won't--if that slap to the face is the way you respond to all proposals, then I certainly don't want to subject myself to it again with a second formal marriage proposal," he quipped, then had duck to avoid another slap.   
"You scoundrel, how can you just toy with mah feelings like that?!" Tears sparkled brightly on the corners of Rogue's moody green eyes as she glared at the calmly amused Cajun, before she growled incomprehensibly into his face and turned around so fast that she nearly fell down. Remy reached forward and gently held her back to keep her from diving face-first onto the floor, but as soon as his hands made contact with her waist she turned around and violently wrenched herself free from his grasp, this time succeeding in landing a slap onto his hands.   
"Don't touch me, you...you worm!" she bit out furiously, glaring daggers into his carefully impassive eyes before hiking up her voluminous skirts and running off. 

* * *

Inside an elaborately decorated dressing room and completely unaware of the verbal exchange that had just occurred between Rogue and Remy, Kitty was practically skipping around from excitement, risking tearing her dainty pink maid of honor dress as she supervised some last-minute adjustments to her sister's appearance.   
"I feel like I'm drowning in here," Jean's normally sweet, gentle voice spoke up dryly from underneath a mountain of frothy, pearl-lined white silk. Kitty laughed cheerfully, quipping, "Aw, Jean, you're starting to sound like Rogue with all that sarcasm!" earning a somewhat half-hearted chuckle or two from the beautiful redhead. An amiable silence settled between the two sisters, during which one of the attending maids lowered a gossamer veil over Jean's face while another placed a crown of tiny flowers on top of her head.   
"Kitty," Jean spoke up suddenly, her voice sounding strained as the other girls continued to fuss over the perfect coiffures in her hair and the extravagant diamond and silver jewelry she was supposed to wear, "do you think I'm doing the right thing by marrying Pietro Maximoff?" Kitty snapped out of her blissful wedding day dream world, blinking surprised cornflower-blue eyes as she gasped, "Wh...what do you mean, Jean? Of course you're doing the right thing by marrying, Pietro--I mean, he's handsome, he's charming, he's a divine dancer, and granted he's a bit cocky, but that's really just part of his charisma and all--"   
"Kitty, I'm marrying Pietro mainly because it would tremendously benefit both our families," Jean spoke up evenly, and Kitty flushed while conceding, "Well maybe that too, because it _would_ help ease all the hostilities between Papa and Mr. Maximoff, but--" 

The arrival of Wanda Maximoff prevented any further conversation between the two sisters, as the cold raven-haired beauty entered the lavishly furnished dressing room and announced somewhat frostily, "The seamstress is finally here, after a two-hour delay, to adjust your wedding gown, Jean...apparently her carriage got stuck in the marshes and had to be pushed out by some of the county's finest." Kitty breathed a sigh of relief, partly because the hem of Jean's dress was still a bit too long and would need to be pinned up, partly because it signaled an interruption in Jean's train of doubts about her big wedding day. _That's the last thing our family needs, _the perkily pretty brunette thought delicately to herself, wrinkling her nose while silently adding, _to be rocked by such a scandal as one of its own jilting her fiancé at the altar!_

* * *

The Maximoff family cook, a large black man with an usually jolly demeanor, now glared crossly at Rogue and gritted out in a strained voice, "Please, Missy, git outta de way!" as he hurriedly pushed past her, carrying with him a huge ten-tier wedding cake and a request for yet more dishes to be prepared. Rogue dutifully flattened herself against a wall, too miserable to even muster any feelings of indignation at the way she'd been jostled around or to even notice that careless servants had stepped all over the hems of her expensive pink maid of honor dress when she'd forgotten to pull in its extravagant full skirts. 

After the first wave of servants and chaos had passed, Rogue crept away from all the noise and excitement, trying to find a quiet, private place like the library where she could sulk without being interrupted or bumped into. Briefly, she tried to conjure up a mental map of the massive Maximoff plantation, but was quick to give up on that idea when she realized how hopeless it would be to try and remember where all the enormous hundred-plus rooms were situated, and instead trod along blindly, opening doors and then backing out when each time a throng of people would inevitably be already lodged inside, polishing crystals and silverware, arranging flowers, dusting the expensive furniture, checking over dresses and suits for any rips or tears, or busy preparing even more food. Finally, the auburn-haired girl managed to stumble her way into a darkened room that seemed deserted enough, and she quickly closed the door behind her and sank onto a velvet loveseat, closing her eyes and waiting for the tears she'd been holding in ever since her brief conversation with Remy to fall. 

They never had a chance to, when an all too familiar masculine voice spoke up, "So you've been needing an escape from all this madness too, huh?" Rogue snapped up guiltily, glancing around with a sinking feeling in her heart while silently cursing herself for having missed Pietro's half-hidden form by the heavy royal blue drapes.   
"What are you doing here, Pietro?" she asked wearily, feeling too drained to even bother sniping with him. "With your kind of personality, Ah thought you'd be out there amongst the crowds, basking in all the congratulations and well-wishing!"   
"That's what everybody thinks of me," Pietro quipped, and Rogue wondered whether she'd correctly heard a flash of bitterness in his voice. "But I don't mind, it suits me just fine--better that they think I'm some sort of vain, foolish pretty boy anyway; it's always an advantage when people have low expectations of me."   
"Low expectations...?" Rogue's voice trailed off. Had she herself been underestimating Pietro all this time? She'd always prided herself on being a good judge of character..._but look where that's led you,_ she chastised herself with semi-bitterness, remembering her disastrous fallout with Remy and the way cocky Pietro had always managed to make her speechless with a sprinkling of well-placed comments and observations about her thoughts and feelings.   
"Oh, there's no need to feel sorry for me, Miss Rogue," Pietro was saying. "After all, when I'm getting pity from a standoffish wallflower like you--no offense--then I know I've really sunk to the bottom." Rogue was too lost in thought to even realize that he'd casually snuck in another jibe at her aloofness, instead observing quietly, "You're not exactly happy about marrying mah sister so soon, are you? You're just not ready to make that kind of commitment." Pietro was immediately on the defensive, as he snapped up and babbled in an angry arsenal of words, "What do you mean, not happy? Hey, I know exactly what I want, and when I want it, and...of course I'm ready for that kind of commitment, I just told you I'm not some sort of idiotic playboy, didn't I...?" Rogue smirked, enjoying the fact that, for once, she had the advantage over him.   
"Pietro, listen to yourself," she interrupted calmly. "You're not trying to convince me that you're ready or even really want to marry Jean, you're trying to convince yourself--and you're failing."   
"I--" Pietro opened his mouth, a thousand retorts ready to be fired off, then seemed to reconsider and reluctantly closed it, his eyes and slight slump of posture signaling his defeat.   
"Think about it," Rogue told him, still smirking, even though she knew it was terrible to feel any amusement about something as serious as a possibly failed marriage, "the only reason you're marrying mah sister is to benefit your father--"   
"Oh, shut up!" Pietro broke in abruptly, stalking away from his position by the curtains and elbowing past her to stride out of the room.   
"Where are you going?" Rogue asked, feeling a small blaze of curiosity begin to flare up despite her thundercloud of distress and anger over losing Remy. Was Pietro going to call the wedding off? Alarm bells began ringing inside her head, as she inwardly screamed, _No! He can't do that! Think of all the dishonor and scandal it will bring to both our families...and Ah'll be the cause of all of it. _Her head hung in shame, as she realized that she'd carried her teasing and taunting too far...and yet somehow, she just knew that if Pietro really _was_ going to call off the wedding, she would do nothing to stand in his way. She couldn't. Was it just a virtuous selflessness on her part to allow him to seek an end to a mistake before it happened...or just some sort of terrible selfishness because she wanted to keep Pietro around, unmarried and therefore still attainable, until she resolved her conflicting feelings about both him and Remy?   
"I need some time alone to think," Pietro's cool, carefully even response broke into her jumble of thoughts, and Rogue looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of his disappearing back, feeling a strange mix of disappointment and relief at his vague yet non-drastic answer. 

* * *

An uncharacteristic wave of panic seized the Maximoff mansion with just an hour left before the elaborate wedding ceremony. All the food was prepared and laid out carefully over long tables covered with the family's best white cloths, the elegant chandelier, with its five thousand diamond lights, sparkled dazzlingly like a welcoming beacon to the festivities, the halls were sweet with the fragrances of flowers, and the carriage was hitched and ready to take the bride and groom to the nearby church where a priest awaited to wed them. Only... 

"Mist' Maximoff is gone! He's gone! We can't find him!" a terrified little black girl ran madly across the halls, screeching out her words like a siren. Inside the mansion, shocked heads began peeking out of rooms, as guests and servants alike wondered, "Mr. Maximoff? Why would the family patriarch depart when the ceremony's about to begin in an hour?"   
"Not the elder Mist' Maximoff! Mist' Pietro!" the little girl hastily corrected herself, then careened around a corner to announce the distressing news to the young belles who were in the garden by the rose beds.   
"Mist' Pietro's disappeared! We can't find him!" she wailed shrilly, causing a wave of hushed conversation to ripple across the multitude of elegantly-dressed girls. The little servant's distressed call floated up a window, where seated inside Jean was staring fixedly at her reflection in a mirror with Kitty a few yards away tucking some violets into her sash. The younger sister froze in mid-movement when she heard the announcement that Pietro had disappeared, gasping indignantly, "Why, what kind of a cad is he to just walk out of his own wedding...?" before she suddenly remembered that his bride-to-be was in the same room, and had heard the announcement as well. Kitty immediately rushed over to comfort Jean, nearly tripping over her long skirts and yards of ribbons in the process as she cried comfortingly, "Oh, Jean, I'm so terribly sorry it's happened!" Jean's face, peeking out from behind Kitty's lustrous chestnut hair as the younger girl swept her in a sorrowful hug, was surprisingly calm, as she replied evenly, "It's all right, Kitty. Please don't cry for my sake, I'll be fine." Kitty leaned back, every bit as shocked by her sister's peculiarly composed response as she'd been by news of Pietro's disappearing act.   
"But..." she sniffled, wondering whether this was just a customary reaction by her always dignified sister. Surely not even Jean could remain this poised when faced with news that the supposed love of her life had just bolted, could she? But Jean was speaking now.   
"In a way," she admitted with a shrug, "I'm glad he feels the same way. It's saved us both from an unhappy, albeit highly beneficial, marriage." Kitty was staring at her oldest sister in disbelief, as the elegant redhead stood up and stepped out of her white satin slippers while taking her shimmery veil off at the same time, her full white skirts billowing gracefully around her with each movement.   
"Jean...what are you doing?" she asked, incredulity mixed with curiosity at her sister's actions.   
"I'm changing out of this wedding dress--there's no need for it now, since there isn't going to be a wedding," Jean replied calmly, slipping the sleeves off her shoulders.   
"But--" Kitty tried to sputter out a feeble protest.   
"Kitty, you're still very young--you don't think of marriage as anything beyond lovely wedding gowns or traveling around the world on a lengthy honeymoon," Jean was saying amiably. "Maybe once you've grown older, you'll realize that marriage is a commitment far deeper than elaborate wedding parties. Now, will you please help me change out of this?" Part of Kitty wanted to protest that she was throwing away a perfectly good husband, the other part wanted to huffily point out that, at sixteen, Jean was only two years older than her. But Kitty kept these thoughts, amongst others, unspoken, and instead silently moved over and helped raise the frothy, delicate wedding gown up and over Jean's flaxen corset cover and three lace petticoats. 

* * *

Rogue froze in shock and dismay when she heard the alarming announcement that Pietro had disappeared, feeling wave after wave of shame and guilt roll over her like some horrible ocean tide. Had she done it? Had she, bitter little creature that she'd been over her loss of Remy, been the cause of all this? And even now, when the supposed fairy tale wedding had been utterly ruined, why did she still dare to feel a tingle of relief and hope that Pietro was still single, and, by default, still attainable, no matter how slim her chances probably were with him? Rogue hated herself at that moment, hated herself because she might have just destroyed her own sister's chance at happiness, hated herself because she still couldn't make up her mind over whom she wanted, Remy or Pietro, hated herself because now Remy didn't want her so that must mean there was some horrible quality about her, hated herself because she still didn't know whether she loved Pietro or detested him, hated herself...   
"Come with me," a male voice whispered from somewhere behind her, and Rogue froze, momentarily stopping berating herself as she paused to listen without daring turn around. The voice continued to speak, adding simply, "Meet me by the virgin forests at the edge of this plantation...I'll take you away from all this." And then he was gone, having spoken in too low a whisper for her to identify his voice and just barely decipher his words. _Could it be...It must be him!_ Rogue felt her heart pick up speed with excitement, as she dropped the rose garland she'd been half-heartedly trying to weave and sped off in a rustle of skirts and honeysuckle fragrance. 

A carriage was waiting for her by the edge of the black pine forests bordering the Maximoff plantation, just like he'd promised, as he reached out with one hand and helped pull Rogue into its soft, velvet interiors beside him. Rogue was almost faint with exhilaration, and, fearing that she might collapse unconscious for the second time in her life, she began quickly babbling about everything and nothing in an effort to get her mind off her crazy decision.   
"Ah probably shouldn't even be here," she stammered nervously, glancing out the carriage window and noticing the various clusters of people that had begun to filter out of the mansion. "Ah mean, this is nothing short of elopement, and mah family would be forever dishonored by such a scandalous decision...and Ah don't even know how mah religion would punish me for this kind of action...and did you notice how nice the weather is today?...and..." The man had remained curiously silent throughout her entire rant, despite his air of charmed amusement at her nervous words that Rogue had managed to sense, and now she turned around to speak directly to him.   
"Ah should probably just get off here and go back to the plantation..." Her voice trailed off, and her eyes widened in shocked surprise when she recognized the all too familiar features, before narrowing in anger as she spat out a single word.   
"You!" she hissed acidly, and the devilish grin that sprang up on his lips were enough to make her want to strangle him. 


	10. Chapter Ten

Rogue glared angrily at the ruggedly handsome face, at the familiar mane of dark brown hair, at the always amused black eyes with a touch of red in them, and her own olive-green ones narrowed in anger and shock.   
_"You!" _she hissed, somehow managing to turn that one simple word into verbal poison as she mentally kicked herself for not having discerned his unmistakable accent earlier at the plantation, before she'd gone ahead and hopped into his carriage, thinking that he was...But he was speaking now.   
"Ah, bonjour ma chérie," Remy LeBeau greeted with his usual easygoing swagger, tipping his hat while flashing an impish grin that could have melted an iceberg. His charm, for once, failed to work its magic on Rogue, as she spared a brief glance at the slowly darkening azure sky before pointing out dryly, "It's evening, Remy. How can you still say bonjour?"   
"That's become my standard greeting to you, though, hasn't it, mon petit?" Remy replied cheerfully, the amused grin never once faltering on his face. Rogue scowled, and if looks could kill, the charming Cajun would have long since been buried.   
"Let me off, Remy," she ordered, with as much control over her voice as she could gather. "Ah've had more than quite enough of your presence after that little speech you gave about honoring mah wishes and not wanting to get slapped anymore, and the last thing Ah need is for you to be tricking me like this and...and...and just what are you doing coming back like this after you swore you'd leave me?!" Remy casually pulled out a cigar, sticking it into the corner of his mouth but for the moment choosing not to light it just yet as he swept the Maximoff mansion with a lazy, relaxed look while drawling, "Don't look so surprised there, chérie, you know I couldn't leave you." He paused to light his cigar, while adding casually, "Besides, who were you actually expecting back by the forest--Pietro?" Rogue felt her face go red despite herself, as she coughed and scrabbled around for a dignified answer--or even a less than civil retort--to his remark, but, finding none, finally settled for commenting tightly, "Ah really would prefer you didn't smoke that in here." In a flash, the expensive cigar was smothered out and placed back into its case, as Remy shrugged and replied pleasantly, "And I would of course prefer to respect a lady's wishes." 

The two rode on in silence, Remy's laid-back and confident, Rogue thinking furiously to herself as she went over the dizzying events of the last twelve hours. Finally, she ventured weakly, "Where are you taking me?" Remy's response was immediate, as he replied without hesitation, "Why, to the nearest church in Paris, of course...that is, if ma chérie still wants to."   
"Paris!" Rogue nearly fell off her seat, and would have done so had there been more room for her to plummet. "Remy, are you crazy?! Ah can't go to France, let alone as your hostage!" Remy gave her a lazy grin, reminding her, "Chérie, you'll never be a hostage so long as you're with Remy. You can get off whenever you want to." Rogue set her lips into a determined line, growling through clenched teeth, "Fine, Ah will!" And she turned around and opened the carriage door, preparing to jump off.   
"However," Remy spoke up, while she was still looking down at the rapidly moving ground and trying to decide which was the best way to leap off without inflicting too many bruises on herself, "before you _do_ leave, you might want to reconsider what's waiting for you in Mississippi."   
"Mah family, Miss Ororo, the plantation, people Ah know, people who won't kidnap me to run off to Paris...!" Rogue listed off without a moment's hesitation.   
"And of course, there's also your charming role as the county wallflower, not to mention the fact that your debonaire Pietro Maximoff's probably well on his way to South America by now," Remy teasingly finished for her in that maddening tone of his that made her want to toss something--any random projectile--at his face with its mocking smirk and amusedly flashing eyes. Rogue's deep auburn brows slanted together angrily across her forehead at his flippant jibe.   
"Isn't it a bit hypocritical of you to be talking like that about Pietro, when you yourself ain't some prime example of the upstanding American citizen?" she pointed out with testy sarcasm, alluding to his fiasco with Belladonna.   
"Ow, touché there, chérie--a well-dealt blow," Remy grinned devilishly, making Rogue want to slap him. She wasn't just verbally sparring with him for entertainment, like he seemed to think she was, she wanted to...she wanted to...   
"Oh, you're impossible, Remy LeBeau!" she finally huffed angrily, refusing to flat out admit that he had a point--both about her dismal position in society as the wealthy wallflower, as well as the fact that Pietro Maximoff was definitely not ready to commit himself to marriage, if not to the lovely and talented Miss Jean, then certainly not to her petulant younger sister either.   
"Thank you for reminding me," Remy answered playfully, flashing another smile in her direction while Rogue merely frowned this time and turned her face to the window.   
"Like Ah said, you really are impossible," she muttered sourly to herself. 

Another brief pause settled between the two, broken with smooth ease when Remy spoke up to ask teasingly, "Are you going to jump out of the carriage right now, Miss Rogue, or will you wait until we've stopped at the train station to leave then?" Rogue finally turned back toward him, looking him evenly in the eye and asking calmly, "Do you want me to leave?" Remy grinned, taking out another cigar and raising it to his lips as he said, "Obviously no--oh, excuse me, chérie, I'd forgotten how much you disapprove of me smoking in front of you," he added at Rogue's pointed frown. As he returned it back to its case, he murmured, "In that case, it's the church of Paris, I see." Rogue lifted an eyebrow.   
"Ah wanted to ask you about that," she ventured. "Why a church?"   
"Good question," Remy grinned. "So, chérie, why a church indeed? What kinds of ceremonies are performed at churches?" Rogue's eyes widened in shock.   
"Oh, no..." she started to snap, her voice trailing off as the first unwanted bits of reconsideration began pushing their way into her mind.   
"But of course," Remy returned her earlier arched brow with a playful one of his own, as Rogue began to protest, "But...but you just said only hours ago that you would leave me...that you would never bother yourself with a formal marriage proposal again..."   
"I said I would leave this county, not you," Remy corrected her. "And I'm keeping my word about the formal proposal business as well--I'm not asking your father for your hand, I'm asking you directly." Rogue felt that her jaw had probably dropped straight through the carriage floor and onto the ground when she heard those words, her eyes widening and her heart rapidly picking up speed.   
"Remy LeBeau," she breathed with grudging admiration, "you truly _are_ impossible. That you are."   
"So what is chérie's answer, then?" Remy asked after a while. "Or should I get down on one knee and make this seem a bit more traditional?" Rogue rolled her eyes in his direction, as the carriage continued to jolt down its rugged country path.   
"Don't bother, you'll make a fool out of yourself, what with the limited space in this vehicle and all," she huffed dryly, shaking her head while muttering something under her breath to herself.   
"Then is it yes or no?" Remy asked, that familiar devilish grin returning to his lips. Rogue didn't miss a beat with her answer.   
"No," she replied sweetly, exaggeratedly fluttering her eyelashes at him. 

* * *

**Epilogue, Christmas Eve, 1853**

Kitty snuck carefully into Jean's room, glancing around behind her every other second to make sure nobody had seen her slip upstairs. Once inside, the pretty brunette made a beeline directly for Jean's ornately-carved white oak desk, pulling open every drawer and leaving each one open once she'd searched through its contents to mark the ones she'd already checked.   
"Come on," she murmured impatiently to herself, rifling through a sheaf of love sonnets one of Jean's numerous suitors had composed specially for her. Kitty knew that hidden in here, somewhere, was a letter written to her older sister from none other than Rogue, who'd eloped with that charming Cajun during all the chaos of the aborted Maximoff wedding several months earlier. Kitty felt personally insulted that Rogue hadn't deemed _her_ trustworthy enough to keep such secrets as the new Mrs. LeBeau's address and whereabouts, but with Jean's uncanny ability to sense whenever something was wrong, her sister hadn't had many chances to go through her mail for that precious letter...until Christmas, that is, when the beautiful redhead was too preoccupied with hosting the evening party and entertaining the many guests to spare even a brief second to her intuition. 

Kitty continued to stubbornly search through the desk, nearly banging her head on one of the open drawers in her overzealousness and letting out a muffled cry at the sudden flash of pain. Her hands closed around an envelope, and, crying a triumphant, "Ah hah!" she quickly pulled it out, only to frown in disappointment when the German address that stared back at her gave no indication of belonging to Rogue. Kitty was about to put it back, when she noticed something familiar about it, and, quickly drawing the envelope closer to her, examined the handwriting and then the letter folded neatly inside, before crying to herself in recognition, "Pietro?! Jean got a letter from Pietro...and she never even told me about it? Ugh, what _is_ it with all these people thinking I'm not mature enough to handle their big secrets?" Kitty was about to stomp off, offended and feeling rather defeated about her unsuccessful search, when, as she was putting Pietro's letter back after sneaking a quick peek at the first page and noting what actually sounded like sincere apologies and a brief recount of how his studies were going in Germany, her fingers happened to brush against one last letter, and she pulled it out with eager curiosity. The envelope itself had been long discarded--to protect the address of its writer, perhaps?--and as Kitty unfolded the sheets of paper and skimmed across the words, an instant light of recognition flashed across her eyes as she found herself staring at the familiar, precise handwriting.   
"It's Rogue!" she whispered, awestruck, to herself. "It's the letter from Rogue!" Quickly, darting a single guilty glance around as if she were acknowledging that what she was about to do was wrong, Kitty scurried out of Jean's room and locked herself into her own, where she might read the letter in peace, without the constant worry of being discovered. 

_Dear Jean,_

_ I'm sorry it's taken me this long to write...I guess I still need some time to adjust to being Mrs. Remy LeBeau. Life here in Paris, with Remy, is amazing, but I often find myself still missing home, missing the simple pleasures of plantation life, and, most important of all, missing you. My family. I look forward to the day when Remy and I can return to America instead of living the rest of my life here in France in what Remy's often teased me about as being "in exile," but I can honestly say that I have no regrets over what I've decided. Remy and I are truly happy together here, so please don't worry about me, and if you could, find some way to reassure Papa, Kitty, and Miss Ororo of that without quite giving away the fact that I've written to you. This is probably the only letter I'm going to write in quite a while, because I simply cannot risk having it slip the location of our new home and have Papa send the entire U.S. police force up here to look for us. I know I can trust you to keep our secret, but I'm not ashamed of what I've done, and if my religion sees it fit to condemn me for marrying a divorced man, then I'm ready for their punishment. I'm sorry that I couldn't be there for you after your wedding that wasn't, but if you're willing to listen to a younger sister who's discovered that love truly does work in strange and magnificent ways, then you'll realize that Pietro just isn't right for you--at least, not right now--and that someday, you'll find your prince, the same way I did._ _Affectionately,_   
_Your sister, Rogue_

  
Kitty's eyes barely managed to scan over the last few words when Jean's voice, gentle but somewhat tired from her hosting duties, floated up the stairway to call out to her youngest sister, "Kitty? Are you upstairs?" The startled brunette nearly jumped off her bed, where she'd been lounging reading Rogue's letter, upon hearing her sister's voice, as she hastily tried to arrange her features into their most innocent expression while calling out in what she hoped was a smooth, nonchalant voice, "Yes, Jean. I'll come down right away, I didn't mean to walk out on you like that."   
"That's all right." Soft, graceful footsteps signaled the imminent arrival of Jean on the second floor, and Kitty nearly tripped over the frothy, voluminous skirts of her new flowered seafoam-colored taffeta dress as she unlocked her door and scurried back to Jean's room, sticking the letter underneath the pile of correspondence in her sister's white oak desk. 

Kitty was hurriedly exiting through the bedroom doors when Jean's elegant form appeared by the winding spiral stairway, and an expression of bewilderment settled across the beautiful redhead's features simultaneous with her own guilty look.   
"Kitty? What were you doing in my room?" Jean asked quietly, and the younger girl felt a quick wave of relief as she observed that her sister's voice carried no hint of suspicion or distress--at least, not yet.   
"I, um, was...I was...looking for a shawl...borrowing a book...checking to see if the windows were closed...um, I was..." Never having been the most convincing liar, Kitty finally decided to give up and just blurt out the truth. "All right, I'll admit it! I was looking for Rogue's letter." Jean leaned back, a startled look washing over her face while dramatic dark lashes fluttered above viridian eyes in a single blink, and as Kitty nervously watched her oldest sister's reaction, she ventured timidly, "You're not going to tell Papa or Miss Ororo...are you?" Jean sighed, before crossing the hallway and entering her room to seat herself daintily on her white feather bed.   
"No, I suppose not--I can't, really, because if knowledge of Rogue's letter reaches them, they'll certainly send a search party to bring her back, and that will violate her wishes to stay married to Mr. LeBeau in peace," she finally decided. Kitty felt a big smile of relief spring up on her face, as she raised her hand to her chest and vowed sincerely, "And you can depend on me to help you keep that secret, Jean--honestly, I don't see why Rogue and you were so concerned that I shouldn't find out, I'm more trustworthy than that, you know!" Jean smiled, tilting her head to glance at the baby of the family.   
"I would hope that you are," she teased lightly, as Kitty huffed and pretended to be insulted.   
"Well, I _am,"_ she said emphatically. "And I'm also very glad for Rogue that she's so happy being married to Mr. LeBeau, even if the rest of the county's torn her reputation to shreds."   
"That's very generous of you," Jean commented, as she got up and gathered her elegant hoop skirts to resume her duties downstairs at the party.   
"Thank you," Kitty curtseyed briefly, her cornflower-blue eyes lighting up as a new idea came to her and she thought out loud, "I hope Rogue will be generous as well, now that I've found out she's living in France--since I _do_ want to look my best when Kurt and his family return from their trip to Germany next month, do you think she might send me the prettiest and most fashionable rose-pink Parisian silk dress she can find? I'll pay her for it, of course!"   
"Kitty!" Jean laughed, as the two sisters linked arms and headed downstairs together.   


* * *

  
**The End**


End file.
